It’s cold
The sun is out
The trees are burning
I am fighting shivers
The pavement burns my feet
Feeling first, escaping sleep
Follicles along my body rise
Saluting fate’s cruel design
Daylight is a facade
Morbid frost trails up my arms
Nothing to distract my brain
Time to play the reel again
Back off, relent
I’m begging
Comfort laughs hysterically
I’m solemnly buried in bedding
Things to do
I won’t get up
The sun the moon
Slowly become one
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Author:
Sunshinethoughts (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 3rd, 2020 14:38
- Comment from author about the poem: I have hard days. And that’s where my best writing comes out.
- Category: Sad
- Views: 22
Offline)
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