If I lay right now,
And my eyes go down
They may not open.
As I'm filled with an ever filling boredom.
Too gone to come back,
I've passed a gate, and it locked me out.
Could it be that thoughts, or lack of, have corroded my mind?
Once a flower,
Am I now a thorn?
Each minute becomes harder,
and not a chance that my eyes will open.
But when night falls,
They don't blink.
YOU ARE READING
Berry Tree
PoetryA book of poems, scrambled thoughts, and endless stories. A bit mysterious, but that's the fun of it. You make the story; you imagine, and wonder. Each page is like picking a new berry from a tree.
