The weight of heavy, haunting,
pressure, pushing through my skin,
Rusty nails to put the pieces
on the walls soon crumbling in.
The anxious, bony shivers,
shakes our home into the dark,
The temporary light we get,
soon reduces to just sparks.
Thick is the air we breathe,
Keep still this heavy air,
Living mostly in silent movies,
accustomed to pitied stares.
A life still longing,
for now this our home.
Not left much on this carcass,
just shreds, flesh and bone.
~Lara Nelson
No comments:
Post a Comment