It was me, no one else, wrapped in sheets so tight,
Each dawn a whisper, urging me to rise and fight.
But the weight of sorrow clung, a heavy, aching chain,
In the fortress of my bed, I found solace in the pain.
It was me, no one else, lost in dreams I wove,
A heart once full of laughter now a hollow, empty grove.
With every tear I shed, the world outside grew dim,
Dysania wrapped around me like a lover's gentle hymn.
It was me, no one else, facing shadows in my mind,
No comforting embrace, no gentle hands to find.
The echoes of your absence lingered like a ghost,
In this silent battle, I learned to be my own host.
It was me, no one else, who learned to face the day,
To rise from tangled sheets, to find a brighter way.
Through the ache and the stillness, I began to mend, I became my own friend.
YOU ARE READING
talking to the Moon - that's Y I wrote iT.
PoesiaI share the words that have flowed from my heart over the years since my last publication. Although it's been a while, my pen never rested; I continued to write, capturing the essence of my experiences in verses that resonate with the soul. This col...
