Fog.
A mysterious substance,
Moving with the wind.
Forming around,
And taking in
Anything in it's path.
Growing bigger,
Colder,
More damp than it was before.
I work,
Much like this fog,
And so my heart,
Does as well.
I flow around,
Take anything in my path,
Make everything feel,
So dense.
Make it impossible to breath.
Take you in,
Just to throw you out.
Make you blind,
Feel like you're alone.
Yes.
This fog.
Is me.
YOU ARE READING
My Poetry Escape
PoetryI may just be a girl. No one special. Nothing compared to others. In the eyes of the universe, I am just a little speck of dust. My light may not shine very bright, and it may not be of any use, but I am me. Writing is my only escape out of this wor...
