Like a child
Scrounging for cold lemonade
On a hot summer's day.
Searching
And scanning
For something specific
Something needed.
The sweet release
From the heat
Becomes a showpiece.
The fear of being insignificant,
Wanting nothing more
Than their cup filled with the refreshment.
And you filled me
To the brink
with joy
Until
I forgot how the word sorrow
formed on my lips
And how
Despair tasted on my tongue.
You made me feel
As if I wasn't alone
In this mess
And insanity
That we call a world.
YOU ARE READING
My Human Experience
PoetryA collection of poetry pieces I've written over the years. I've decided to share some here in case they tickle anyone's interests. Doesn't need to be read in a specific order ~ Mental illness isn't pretty or aesthetic, but writing it out and reading...
