I know the world grows weary of my cries for admiration,
Tired of the sounds of my sobs, ringing in the night wind.
I too, am yearning for my soul to stop the charcoal rage.
Cast down into a pit by those I had offered my love to, scowling down on me.
Yet still, I bargain them for mercy, their prayers, and their love.
Covered in a spit of disgrace, as I offer up my lungs for unity.
The books are tired of my tales of those leaving me.
Guaranteed, that I am moreso worn down, from false promises, ever more.
YOU ARE READING
I Set Myself on Fire Over the Stupidest Things
Short StoryThis is a piece I am working on. A poetic story of deeper emotional levels in life. This story isn't about a particular persons or events, it is currently just a representation of emotional struggles. They may seem out of order currently because it...
