I worry for the others.
I worry for my heart.
I worry for the knife in my back as the bleeding starts.
I worry for my mother, and father alike.
I worry that I'll never do what's right.
Why do we bother?
Why do we care?
A haze is deadly in cloud, but minds have caught in the snare.
YOU ARE READING
Dichotomy
PoesíaThe observant is always watching. Humanity is here and thriving, but our world won't be surviving our reign. Alive, but not noticed in living. Here we are. A new life, new words, a new start. Aug. 12th 2019 - June 18th 2021 Vol. 1
