A second passes
And time slows
My mind has been drawn
Like ink on a canvas
On display and open
I'm fighting every memory of you
Every moment
And every minute that passes
Could have been a hundred
Or a thousand for all I know
I feel sick and senseless
My resignation is my death
And my deathbed every word I speak
Was I lost or just lonely
And was It justified
-
Author:
MrNobody40 (
Offline)
- Published: July 6th, 2025 16:36
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 3
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.