Heavily irradiated historian developing my writing career. You can follow me on Facebook, Twitter, & Instagram. To help me create more content, leave a tip or become a pledged subscriber. I also make stickers, t-shirts, etc here.
Empty houses Open browsers Corral us in A prison of not opening up Convincing ourselves we are free If we choose the prison
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Poets
I thought I was waiting for you But really I was waiting on myself I thought you were the one worth waiting for Worthy of more
From the east he roams Having never found a home of his own Always dragging his stone with him Wherever he goes it goes
Bitter greens Slithering unseen Through my dreams A strenuous subcutaneous existence Complaisance in a crime of the mind
Listening to slow jams in other languages I don’t speak their language But they hear all that languishes in my heart They cut through the pain
I don’t know what this is about It is the worst poem Without a doubt In my mind To be alone can be sublime But to feel alone
There is a scar on my heart’s ears It’s from all the years of abuse I got used to It makes it hard to hear when someone says
I am the first born I’m worn out and scorned out Bearing the weight of all expectations The weight of a family on my shoulders
Where is four Oh, it is locked in a drawer Waiting to be opened How long will it stay there We will just have to wait and see
Licking at the facade Worshiping a nameless god Only to realize All efforts will be forgot Break your back all you want
Head in my hands Sifting through the sand Of ruined unplanned events Nowhere to vent A shoulder lent Is a shoulder lost
Top story Oh what a glory To wake up and see You’ve beat an untold number of contenders today Oh hooray What a wonderful day
