11:03 pm, Saturday, 26th August
The night is extremely cold and the skies are barren of any light –
the moon has eloped to other cities, a thousand stars following in its path.
The trees sway in rhythm of the sweet hums of wind
and the leaves subtly bump against each other to produce soft flickers of noise.
My eyes burn in anticipation for when sleep flutters them to a close,
but as the clock continues to tick, I find that my thoughts get darker and darker
until there is no escape.
There's endless tugging, and restless tossing yet it is of no avail
as I fall deeper and deeper into a bottomless pit
which consumes me every night.
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 //
