Poetry
A rage is filled with loathing moments past
It eats the me and doesn't dare to fast
I lay here bleeding out as the night yawns
To wait and dream of dears for the bright dawns
The dream of futures warm and bright days long
Story
I am here in the empty room again. There was a moment where a person was on the street feeding cats and I saw the moment that could of been of waving and talking and being "with" than being "here"; I did not wave or talk or anything that I desired. I only walked away from that moment ignoring the screams and the pleas, and only focused on the being "here".
I am here in the place yearning for yet dreading when those moments come again.
YOU ARE READING
Reality of me that was and is
RandomAnthology of poetry and stories with themes ranging from sorrow to melancholy thoughts.
