tired.
so tired.
of breathing.
of waking up.
of living.
everyday.
the same fights.
the same broken vases.
the same pristine white tiled floor
stained with splattered crimson droplets.
the same shattered frames.
which hold smiles that are now lost to time.
hurts , bleeds.
oh my wounded heart.
i'm sat here again.
just like i do everyday.
amongst these broken things.
lost and tired.
i shed no tears
because i have none to spare.
i'm numb
so i sit here
just like i do everyday.
within a few minutes
i'll get up.
clean this mess
put everything back again.
fix them.
and then
wait for it to happen all over
once again.
- laina
YOU ARE READING
Words Sung By A Weeping Soul
PoetryThis is a collection of poems. My genre Is angst and these poems are full of them. Pondering about the world, wondering why you exist. I try to put thoughts like these into my poems. And a warning my poems don't rhyme. And contain simple words but w...
