There are, again and again and again and again,
A mind, a heart, a face and a friend,
Anchored in ribs, draped down a spine,
Sinew roaming like roots, blood flowing like vines,
Hands and feet and uncountable nerves,
And a trembling voice that lies to be heard.
Dreams spilled like dust on the future’s dead floor;
Seven billion and counting, seven billion and more.
And I swear each mind’s useful, each heart knows no end,
And you won’t always be lost; you’ll find you again.
YOU ARE READING
the angst album
Non-FictionA collection of the little things I write, some poems, some those scrolling paragraphs I can't ever seem to escape. Here is my heart, and since you are a stranger you cannot hurt me with it. Vote if you like, don't vote if you don't, hell you could...
