i thought the dreamtime would let me succumb to its own stolen breath
But it lied, my thought, it did.
i believed the chasing, roaring, crying, shouting, blaming and struck matches
Would make everything go away from me.
But it lied, my soul, it did.
i thought, that in this moment, where i think outside of the box and cling to rising jellyfish
while the riots make me dizzy as i spin
i would find peace.
But it lied, myself, i did.
~
About the Creator
Ruby Red
Heya friend, I'm Red!
I write poetry, so subscribe for a hint of vulnerability, some honesty and the occasional glimpse behind my mask 🌱
Taking a break from Vocal; focusing on my anthology 🫶💖
AI is not art.
New Normal
There is always a moment — small, quiet, almost forgettable — when the spark stops being a warning and becomes a state. It never looks like a turning point from the outside. It’s not a dramatic shift. It’s not a cinematic beat. It’s a subtle internal click, a recalibration so slight that only someone who has lived this cycle as many times as I have would recognize it.
By Elisa Wontorcik3 days ago in Poets
Comments (1)
The lies we tell ourselves are the biggest ones told