it's all never-ending,
constant messy loops
of whatever i should be doing
a pride so hurt, a try-hard with no proof,
is it really alright to have no dream?
nothing to chase, nothing too high,
just the right amount for every day
just enough to live by?
or is it called lazy?
a red flag of some sorts?
where's your plans?
lines between colors and thoughts of just is really getting blurry,
is it because i'm contented
within the corners of my safe space
or is it this constant anxiety welling inside me,
or maybe these thoughts that i should've been rushing my pace?
YOU ARE READING
letters after dark | poetry book 3
Poetrya collection of poems and proses of thoughts that fill up the void after dark. #1 in proses #7 poetry #56 in poem #5 poetrycollection book 3 of the poetic flowers series. other books : • a hurricane of blues • confessions i will never say and other...
