It's strange
The kind of loneliness that hits
In the early hours of the morning
Like freezing to death in a hot pool
Or drowning on dry land
Starving the more you eat
Bleeding the more you bandage
And then it shrinks itself down by 6
YOU ARE READING
Writing Down Poetry in my Head
PoetryThere are moments in my life, as I'm sure with many of you, where I feel the magnitude of everything around me and the weight of it bears down. This is just writing from those moments.
