An awful crunch
Settles
In the valley of my chest
It bites
and clenches with each life
Bringing pump
And it stays like a spider
In a warm corner
With webs filled with hopeless flies
And expiration
They will tell you everything
Will be alright in
The end
There is someone watching
And judging how your energy will
Be preserved or suspended
There are two homes you may live in
But
Somewhere I know
That there is no one
To save us
An awful clenching pain
Settles in the valley of my chest
And the river in between the hills
Spills into the red waterfall
Of dreams
YOU ARE READING
Ideals In A Small World
PoetryA collection of poetry, short stories, and any ideas that must be shared within the closeted shelter of a second home.
