Most of the time I lie on my bed, I feel this condescending feeling of longing for the unknown. And the ceiling that stares back at me, the silence and my window that blasts this cold wind on my face just heightened this feeling more.
What is it that I want that everything is not enough? I want to know.
But the things that surrounds me answered back that I know the answer to that already. I wasn't just willing to seek what is it for I am afraid of knowing, but what is it that I fear? Is it the unknown that I'm longing?
09:38, Goodnight.
ESTÁS LEYENDO
Time:Goodnight
PoesíaThings I wrote while I'm drowning in emotions and thoughts of someone while slowly falling asleep.
