I use writing to cope
It's become an undying hope
But what do I do when
I can't reach for my pen
And my thumbs begin to ache
With my hands starting to quake
Like the hope is done
The night had it's fun
And my body wants me to stop
But my mind adds to the top
Of worries that destroy my hope
Which cause me to need my way to cope.
YOU ARE READING
12 AM Thoughts || Original Midnight Poetry
PoetryDo you ever smile at 12 AM, staring at the moon, Watching as stars glisten by, Coloring the darkness Only for the sun to take them away too soon? Wonders so full of amusement at the night sky, Smiling at 12 AM With an imagination And hearts full of...
