My heart beats as the flame dances on the tip of the wick
The soul bleats their thundering cries as my bad high peaks
My eyes stare on the candle as it melts through its wax
The brain bare with the background noise, always relaxed
This isn't good for me, this quarantine
I might be going crazy, I'm seeing crowned queens
My sanity flickering inside this blank void
The solitude of a burning flame
Until it goes out
Until it all burns out
//k.u.
YOU ARE READING
The Quarantine Book
Poetry"--the stillness of isolation, the blazing aloneness, the rich moments with loved ones, and the sole solitude of the person. The rumination of a bored writer, a reflection of the months, a reaction to the silence and loudness of life. It's a methodi...
