smoky blackness cloaks my vision,
hanging thick overhead,
with no room
for sunlight.
the air feels stagnant,
as it brushes against my cheek;
cold and foreign as it passes.
the air is musty and heavy,
like it, too, has collected dust.
my toes kiss the frozen floor;
the concrete grazes each heel as it passes,
onward, arms outstretched.
as the air around me settles,
the only sound
is that of my breathing;
slow and steady, as my fingers brush the wall;
cool and cold,
like the concrete below me.
until i find a plastic square,
cold and simple.
until i find it, the whole world stays dark
and alone.
until i press,
and the lights go on.
A/N: Hello everyone! I'm so sorry I haven't updated in a while, but I promise to send some more pieces your way very soon! Vote if you enjoyed this, and comment what you think I should write about next!
- CrimsonToaster
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Idle Poetry
PoetryWhen our dreams become paint, and paper is our canvas, we create the most beautiful paintings. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Compilation of poe...
