It is like having
an eagle in your chest,
thrashing through the muscle and sinew, clawing through
the organs you need to breathe.
It is the way one feels veiled in ice, too cold to survive,
silently screaming within the hypothermia, attempting
to avoid the inevitable.
It is the way one feels when even God leaves you for dead.
YOU ARE READING
This Is Where You Learn to Move On
PoetryThe random thoughs, the missing pieces of puzzles that I will never click together. Bits and pieces that won't end up in a manuscript. Highest Ranking: 16 in Poetry cover credits to the outstanding @eccentriphilia
