I awake in the morning
And look around
With the faintest taste
Of a memory
Still lingering from the dream
Annoyingly constant
I am utterly exhausted
For the tear is famous
Briefly to the cheek
And stains my flesh
Cuddled up in my blanket’s
Soft and protective warmth
Despite the lull
I feel inside
I drag myself up
And look in the mirror
I am sullen and deceased looking
And there is something
Burning silently behind my eyes
The dull buzzing in my skull
Calls my back to bed
But I break away
To start my day
Rising out of the ash
Of a mind that is at times so
Disgusting, disturbing and twisted
And shutting off a heart
That has long been
A Blackblue cold
The ghosts of the past
Whisper delicately in my ear
But I no longer heed them
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Tasslehoff Burrfoot visited me and borrowed my brain
ben browder kills good tv
User Comments: [2]
User Comments: [2]