9:51 pm, Saturday, 6th May
away from the city
shine lights that scream of its existence
and I think of how much they
mirror constellations
and just how beautiful it all looks
as the nightly moonshine pours over
the foliage that rests around me.
YOU ARE READING
dysphoria
Poetrysilent pleas from a heart that's been tainted blue, a mind that ripples in constant turmoil and a mouth that remains shut //
