My eyes make oceans
When the power of thought takes its heavy hand
And pushes my brain into my pillow
Lay me down
On a sandy desert
Complete with the satisfaction of nothing
Banging it’s head on my door of knowledge
One
Two
Three
Counting my way down
Until the day where I will no longer have to ponder
On what was and what could’ve been and what will be
Until the day where
Past, present, and future
Shake hands in a place
That is no longer drenched with conflict
YOU ARE READING
Thoughts
PoetryA late night poem, about how we are sometimes exhausted by our own thoughts
