i wait to breathe such dismal air today
just to lie awake in hopes of being
like a liar in the pulpit alone
waiting to be seen without dejection
but closure never reaches the typhoon
so slumber creeps upon hopeless holders
a golden hour for lost, cold refuge
known only as hopeless fountain in lieu
so wake me up as the glossy sun fades
into a moment of relapse for you
YOU ARE READING
if not human
Poetrythe anthology of emotion, the passing of life, the epilogue of pure, unfiltered regret this is "if not human" poems, prose and stories from the dark
