Between the slightest of moments my mere thoughts are carried away onto another plane
I leave the simple vessel of my body and gaze at myself from behind my own head
Watching my hand restlessly type out the words inside of it
But it seems that I leave my body so much
I lose track of time
And maybe it sounds stupid or pathetic
But all I want is my body back
I've been replaced by a sort of autopilot it seems
Playing out the days without much significance in any moment
But maybe this is just sixteen
Watching this unfold in front of me
My screen is pretty bright
Even for these omniscient eyes
YOU ARE READING
Mourning Skies
RandomDark poetry, slam poetry, love poetry, five word stories, and my deepest thoughts
