The days come to pass. The time blurs and morphs into nothing. We are here yet we choose not to, it's the simplest escape. To forget at least for the moment, lest we want to face the world and it's chaos. We have become food for the repast, a gathering of our thoughts, the mourning of our delights. And we endure it.
And we thrive.
YOU ARE READING
Labyrinth
شِعرPoems I made during quarantine. A poem compilation about eating, sleeping and other things. I don't know what I have created. Read at your own risk.
