the help / 26.03.19
with nothing else
to write, i sit—
silent.
my eyes burn,
as tears fight from flowing.
i no longer breathe
the fresh air of a summer
day or smile a grin
that is ever glowing.
my mind churns
and pounds in an
aching sensation that
breaks my skull.
i am always needed
where there is a problem
that must be fixed.
but i am useless when there
is no need for me.
i am an
insurance policy.
YOU ARE READING
We Came From The Dark Ages
PoetryA book of poems written by me. Please note, I'm an amateur and am constantly editing my pieces. This is here to get my work out for others to read. If you have any suggestions for poets to check out, please feel free to let me know :)
