Truth requires peculiar words.
Lonesome afternoon, where is your bliss? Where is your serenade of peace and belonging?
If I sleep will I feel better? Or at least nothing at all?
But when sleep won't come, I wonder how many years till this name of mine is worn out.
I have suffered enough at war with myself. It's far time I won.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Leave me a peice of your heart's ponderings: