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I have hit the wall, losing quality daily, it feels like I rush.
By Luna Jordan3 months ago in Poets
The sun finds my face, even after sleepless nights; the world is still kind.
It starts the same way every single time, more or less: * a wall of text, a cry for justice, typed overnight, or at lunch,
Awaken and rise, spread your wings across blue skies, let your dragon roar.
Empty hands are cold, the bystanders ignore warmth, and the light dies slow.
There are days when you wake up tired before the morning even begins. * You stare at the ceiling, and it feels like the world is already
Soft light through the brush, ember leaves kiss fading sun; autumn’s heart burns red.
Somewhere down here beneath your quiet light, I’m here thinking of you and speaking aloud tonight. Somewhere up there, I know that you still care,
Pumpkins grin widely, their candles burn cold, not warm, and whisper your name.
Baby monitor— soft laughter hums through static; my child sleeps silent.
When it all ends, the silence will implode, replaced with harsh whispers of what you’ve always known: * The brain repeats a phrase: E R R O R * C O D E.
Hush now, child, close your eyes The night is cold, the moon has arise * Hush now, child, the night has come The shadows whisper “you’re not alone”
