as thoughts
become words
they are
eternally twisted.
/
nothing
feels
real enough.
/
as if i ever had anything to complain about.
/
the words are
not coming
i know there's a million
more
but i'll never
spill it clean.
/
but that's
just who i am
and in an hour these words will be forgotten
/
the clock
after all
ticks on
and on
and on
/
and on.
i go where you go.
YOU ARE READING
cacophony
Poetrya trail of poetry drawn between inward glances because i gave up on shouting myself down. | voice one: 01-13 | voice two: 16-29 | voice three: 30-36 | voice four: 37-42 | p.s. the first few poems are really bad. ~ hymn ©2020
