She always had earbuds in
Not to play music, sometimes
Sometimes it was silence
But she wore them because
They were the link between her and the real world
Her red thread that held her to reality
Dissociating, tumbling into an existential crisis
Turn the music up
This is our world,
She thought
This is where I belong.
She didn't believe it
YOU ARE READING
Misty (a collection of my poetry) {{COMPLETE}}
PoetryA road trip of poetry, I guess. Care to come along? Highest rank: 267 in poetry Read my third poetry book, "hush." I have high hopes for it. Read my first poetry book, "where the bluebirds aren't." (Or don't, it's old and rather embarrassing). ⚠️...
