Staring at the same stop,
The drop of ink,
The proof on paper.
I existed I was here,
I was alive,
Living and not just surviving.
Everything that used to make me feel happy,
Just makes me sad,
Staring at the cursor again wondering if this will be the last
You see.
I hope this isn't,
I hope it is.
~Tiamat
YOU ARE READING
Body without Mind
PoetryA glimpse into the mind of an empath, bearing in mind the toll of what can't be controlled but instead manifested into the mind's darkest creations.
