
sickened by how effortlessly
how indifferently
one day stitches it’s weary self
seamlessly
onto another.
so odd.
disgusted by the lack of respect shown
as today proceeds to offer itself zero credit
and chooses to disappear
as pointless background murmur of tommorow.
so bizarre.
maybe a day will come where it understands
the whole importance of its entirety
where it’s divine
in its powerful knowledge
it’s what gives birth to every past & new second.
yet
today, hasn’t got it yet.
today is bedridden with my insomnia
as I wander my bedroom, fussing
over the today
after the particular day
that I’m currently experiencing.
im infected with time, like it’s a virus
it can’t be chased, yet I’m always busy
chasing it.
About the Creator
Emily Serena
truly, my dharma (life purpose) is to write. although death is an interesting means of a beggining to me rather than an end, I still choose to spend my moments as Emily, in this physical dimension, in a revolution of poetry & silent speech



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