The running of thoughts
The display of ones own mind
What will some one-anyone- find?
Roll them out.
Lay them down.
Make a map.
Let the world finally see,
Start at your joys
Turn left at your fears
Walk four paces into the darkness
It now takes six to get out
Run towards the anxieties then away
Panics down the road
Or is it the venture in your head
Overwhelmed by all dread and dead
Panic is all they can feel anymore
YOU ARE READING
Pain and other things that hurt
PoesieA collection of dark poetry that plays off pain. All are written by me. Read if you like.
