How are we?
Am I happy? Are you pleased?
How are we?
Are you angry? Am I feared?
How are we?
Do you harbor faith, while
Do I harbor resentment?
How are we?Are we okay?
Will we be okay?
And were we ever, really?How are we?
Good, or not-so?You have a shield. A facade. A wall. It wasn't there before.
I have jokes. Awkward laughs. Self-deprecating humour. It wasn't there.
How are we?Honey catches so many
flies. I am
Overwhelmed.
They suffocate me.A peach. A rose. A sprig of mint.
A deep inhalation.
The scent of promise.
How are we?
We are hopeful.
We are full.
We are ready.
YOU ARE READING
Default Title - The World Is My Own
PoetryTbh it'll be a bunch of different stuff. Short stories, poems, quotes, rants, opinions, art. Eh.