it is 4 am.
sweat clings to my forehead.
panic races my heartbeat and the air is humid with fear.
shaking hands,
worried eyes searching for a sign,
why am i the way i am?
i wish,
i were not the way i am,
i wish i could rearrange my atoms to make something beautiful.
eyes downcast,
tears like warm, rare rivers of the tundra,
my body is a landscape that has suffered through many wars.
- the way i am
YOU ARE READING
growing wings | Completed
Poetry❝my freedom was at the cost of my sanity❞ how far would you go to earn your freedom, if it meant stripping away your happiness and losing your mind. freedom does not mean liberat...
