There was a whirlpool in me,
swirling and rotating at its own pace,
waging a war inside.
And now there exists only empty barren land.
I've been dried up to my core
And anything I fill in too
Evaporates.
Leaving only dark imprints behind.
YOU ARE READING
Melencholia
PoetryAbruptly, a pull stirs within, peeling back every layer to reveal the raw terrain of your emotions. Memories surge-echoes of what once dominated, now striking with familiar intensity. Years of unspoken weight break free, pouring forth a torrent of m...
