By: Jacob Raymond La Mar
When dreaded feelings of impending doom,
Creep through the walls, and blossom from gloom,
That’s when the rights we presume to be ours,
Are shattered into shards that leave only scars,
Deep canyons of nothing that used to be something,
Anything to define the identity we thought was ours,
We thought it was ours, we thought wrong,
The disparity between wholeness and loneliness is not long,
And the time it takes to move from one to the other,
Is like the flutter of an eyelash that continues to blink forever.
No comments:
Post a Comment