Empty, home, searching, searching.
I am… about to explode
Stifling.
One light on, dainty.
One thing not right.
I’m turning mad,
I need to break free.
I can’t write.
My fingers are wild.
I am dessssssperate.
I need to breathe.

 

One thought on “

  1. monicruz says:

    Well this is a result of not falling asleep when sleep is actually killing me. Excuse my incoherent poem but I don’t despise it anyway.

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