10:42 am, Saturday, 9th December
and as the darkness of the night lapses onto
starkly pale tile,
a shroud of darkness blankets my mind,
running it's thin fingers across my memories,
selecting the most horrid ones to play before my eyes.
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 //
