You may think me a normal being. But I am so weak. You might think of me as creative. But my mind cries through nothing but blockage. What you see right now, right here, is funneled egotistical and faithless silent rage. That rage is all inside. Not a single one of you gets to see it either and that fact hurts me like nothing else I can fathom to describe. Yet here we are, nestled upon one another's tears. Holding our hearts up to the sun. Did you hear that? The sun, rising. I think dawn can hear me.
YOU ARE READING
Whisper Me This
PoetryA collection of poetry and thoughts that provoke my mind. All art in all parts of this collection is done by me. If interested at all you can go to my Instagram @leo.lorraine. P.s. I'm not sure if this title 'whisper me this' is already taken and...
