I have this pit in my stomach,
it clips and sits,
taking bits of my pride
and the angel on my right
pulls me into a baring,
tight hug,
but there is no comfort
found in the discomfort it hands me,
yet, I stand still,
taking it all into this dirty
undone heart of mine.
— though I desired comfort
no one came to my aid
and I found myself
alone once more
- Counting Sheep
YOU ARE READING
Fairy Dreams
PoetryIt all started with you... *All poems are created and owned by me. Should anyone use my material without permission, it can lead to severe legal disputes and potential infringement claims*
