I type
Glassy eyes
Blankly staring at a screen
As my mind conjures up words
That my brain forces my fingers
To type
I don't think
As my body is numb
The one source of warmth
Emitting from a small
Part of my forearm qnd my thigh
Spreading across my skin
As the muscle is bruised
From the blunt trauma
I inflicted
It's the only real source
Of solace
That I know I can come back to
For a small part of the old me
Thrives inside
Waiting for that moment
To overtake and claim their stake
Like they did so long ago
YOU ARE READING
The Unexpected
PoetryA collection of poems about my life, my feelings, my thoughts, basically about me. It's the things I don't ever speak of but write down instead. Warning: some poems may trigger you so read at caution A/N: They're not the best since I just write them...
