I feel like there's always something within me begging for closure,
Some beast or maybe an angel,
Something that begs every day for release,
Begs to be expressed through song,
Through drawing,
Through writing,
But I can never get it out.
It's trapped in there,
And part of me is scared to see what it is,
But it itches in a way that will never be properly scratched.
No matter what I do, I feel like it will never be properly sated. Never satisfied.
I could eat and never be full,
I can work and never earn enough,
I can learn and never know enough,
I can drink and never quench my thirst,
I can love but always yearn for more,
I can hate and never feel justified.
I feel an itch I cannot scratch, and
Nothing brings it satisfaction.
YOU ARE READING
Air Conditioning
PoetryVent poetry It's frowned upon putting your heart on your sleeve with such a weak code like a three number pin. For both of our sakes I hope you aren't the type to spend your time digging your claws in and working to decode someone else's words an...
