there is chaos brewing underneath my skin;
tectonic plates grinding and crashing
in an effort to rattle my bones.
and this is what it feels like
to be in between good days.
to be a self contained hurricane,
floating on the calm waters.
teeth gritted, knuckles white,
trying to hold in the storm
instead of making waves.
YOU ARE READING
↳ 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧-𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.
Poetrydust-filled bones and ink flooding my veins. © pretendyoumissme | 2020
