SORROW
It's dark,cold and empty
This never ending pit of uneasiness,
It fills, distorts and horror
Angled or say positioned in an awkward
crouched manner
A form of relief, a time of sanity.
Time! Ahh
A piece in fixed of momentum made to
calculate how long the madness has grown
Or seems to have spread
It's ironic how it seems to conflict its own self
Gathering shells of what is left inside
Broken fix
And it's claimed healed, but what
happens when it repeats
It becomes lovely right? A wretched smile in place
A question of time
Does it heal or feel? Create or mend
The emotions in disarray
That the body verse tends to gather
-Roux Alyssa
