Lying still in this burial place I dug for myself.
Dying for nothing.
I'm calling for help.
Seems my soul’s grown cold and left,
Abandoned me inside,
This dense fog within my mind.
Where there's no sentence,
No great Divine.
No veils.
No sequence.
No paths to find.
And I can't tell how parched I am.
My eyes drank the tears I almost shed.
The migraine beating in my chest,
Split open its drums ’til my ears bled.
I've collected the fears I'm running on,
And chords to songs I've left unsung.
To find what I've been running from.
While I've stood here silently all alone.
About the Creator
Tera Summers
Ive been wringing since I was like 7 or 8. I love to write about all I have experienced. I want to thank you in advance for your reads and support!
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