We wake to ugly words,
And the suffocating smell of toxins in the air,
Waiting for the day a mentor cares enough to ask "Are you okay?",
Our prayers become silent litanies of apologies and repents for existing.
They throw us at each other,
Banging at the walls for murder.
One less problem to solve.
We're just waiting for one sheep to jump over that cliff,
So the rest of us may follow.
It's not cowardice.
It's no hope for tomorrow.
How is it we strive to fix a world that harbors endless horrors?
— Counting Sheep
YOU ARE READING
Unraveling
PoetryA spill of a heart onto pages. The darkness and beauty of blood into words.
