Through the window I watch,
as the bland white sky turns magenta.
While the curtains hang open,
my mind runs marathons,
leaving me with tired eyes,
a crooked smile,
and tear stained sheets.
The rain turns to ice when it hits,
the snow melts when it's touched.
It's delicate,
just like the rest of us.
As the sun rose this morning,
clinging to my bones I rose too.
Now as the sky changes,
the once present light disappears,
I lay awake in a room for the sick,
waiting for the night to fall upon us.
YOU ARE READING
The World In My Words
PoesiaThese are my stories, they are my words and my thoughts and my feelings. It takes time to turn tragedy into art. This is my corrupted world in words. This is a message from the breathless. Can you read between the lines?
