We smoke
to fill the emptiness
in our chest
only to take
what we need
to be alive.
Inhale,
exhale.
Why do I still feel
empty
in a vessel gifted
with the ability to simply exist?
YOU ARE READING
Wistfully Wilting
PoetryThe quiet melancholy of a painful past, wistfully wilting away to what will one day blossom into a beautiful blooming woman.
Breathless
We smoke
to fill the emptiness
in our chest
only to take
what we need
to be alive.
Inhale,
exhale.
Why do I still feel
empty
in a vessel gifted
with the ability to simply exist?
