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No more jackets to keep me warm,
no more therapy to ease my storm.
No more looking west and east,
before crossing the damned street.
No more gazing at the stars,
when all I see is just more scars.
Can't you see that I'm not alive?
I'm just managing to deal with life.
Can't you see I lost the fight
long before I survived?
-Game Over, Caligo.
YOU ARE READING
2:22
PoetryThat's the thing with being the quiet girl, only papers know what I say. Part I of The Zeros. | was featured | #3 in poetry |
