Everywhere I go
It seems to haunt me
I know nothing about it
But it seems to follow me.
Maybe getting a new start would be good
I was wrong
Maybe not talking would be good
I was still wrong.
How do I say that
It's not their fault
Not their fault that
That they're plagued
It gets worse
Each time
We enounter
I wish
It would stop
But it's a stalker.
YOU ARE READING
Paracosmic Kalopsia
Randoma detailed, imaginary world that is thought to be more beautiful than it really is. -poems and prose and short stories TW: mentions of suicide/self harm/violence. Please be cautious.
