do not listen to the psychologist.
he does not know
where my lonely lies.
my lonely is in a campus
of thirty three thousand people,
none friendly. my lonely lives
in the plans i made, the Plan B
for when you find out the fact
that i soothe a girl to sleep
each night. my lonely lives
in the paranoia, turning my head
at passing cars, eyes searching
for a pointed gun.
YOU ARE READING
This Is Where You Learn to Move On
PoetryThe random thoughs, the missing pieces of puzzles that I will never click together. Bits and pieces that won't end up in a manuscript. Highest Ranking: 16 in Poetry cover credits to the outstanding @eccentriphilia
