
Fidgety fingers among a cotton-imbued shirt,
With a finnicky disposition imbued in my interior.
Feelings that overwhelm while becoming painfully clear
To the fact that things are different but yet the same.
Do we wonder - most importantly, do I wonder -
How things can be so incredibly cruel whilst being so effectively wholesome?
I've become numb to my surroundings,
So much so that even the most intense pain inflicted upon me is felt at such a minute amount, that the numbness becomes apparent.
Weary as I may be, the hope continues to resonate within.
My body is a house of conflicting ideas,
As logical thinking residing in me tells me time and time again that things will never get better,
While at the same time, my heart proclaims that better things are yet to come and that all hope is not lost, but instead buried deep awaiting to be unearthed.
Amidst the aura of neutrality that seems prevalent within my own very soul,
I have a hope that only slightly gleams, but protrudes at the most opportune times.
I want more of these times and more of these times will come.
Eventually.
About the Creator
Thomas Devon Lutzenberger
Writer of horror, thriller, and other types of stories.
Be sure to follow me on Instagram!: @tdlartwork



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