at the usual time she'd lie outside,
she remains in doors,
within doors,
indoors
not alone, but with another
in an unfamiliar location
she finds discomfort
the guilt, the pain, the thought
its not her fault
her mind,
feeling so distant, because there's no other way to feel
in a literal sense
every word, no matter the medium
no matter the mood,
just a shot to the heart.
the fear, the paranoia, the thought
its not her fault
...is it?
YOU ARE READING
Nocturna
Poetrythis is a series of poetry, and each and every one of them were written as i sat outside, in the middle of the night.
