Irrational.
Scared,
We all overthink it.
Afraid,
It manifests over time,
Combating any logical sense we have.
Frightened,
Casting aside the morbid thoughts,
Though our fears run deep,
Do you remember the nightmares you had when you were a kid?
Terrified,
Trapped in a cage,
Dank inside this prison filled with fear,
Wondering if we'll ever leave,
This contained asylum.
Petrified,
The walls are high,
The room smells of decay and loss,
Fear clogs all four corners,
Leaving us gagging for air,
Grasping onto the small 'highs'.
Fear,
The windowsill willow lies dead,
As the plant pot made in Year 2 shatters completely,
Flickers of lights pass by on the road opposite,
Yet as the rain cries and stumbles,
I am left in utter disappointment,
When did I let this get so bad.
YOU ARE READING
Hiraeth
Şiir(n). A blend of homesickness, nostalgia and deep longing for something, especially one's home in Wales; an ode to the loss of our homeland, our language and our traditions. •I update this quite infrequently :(•
