it's not that I want to drown
it's that my legs are tiring of swimming
and I'm struggling to keep kicking
and they predict eventually the world will drench us all
so why wait for the drought, it's raining now
it's not that I want to burn
but I let the heat simmer too long by my fingertips
and the ache sets in
and the blisters form separating skin from skin
so the pain has already set in, and there's no way to stop it
it's not that I want to be dirt
it's that eventually the earth swallows us all
and why avoid the inevitable
I can grow flowers anytime
so why wait till spring
it's not that I wish to blow away
it's that the winds come and go
and they blow so fast
and they're blowing past me anyways
so why wait till the world stops spinning
YOU ARE READING
My Kitchen Sink
PoetryAre you searching for purpose? Then write something, yeah it might be worthless. -Twenty One Pilots This is my worthless writings, for a kitchen sink to you is not a kitchen sink to me. Stay street.