Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
I love the lighting
In my room
When the afternoon is saying goodbye
And the moon is waiting her turn
The sun is gentle with me
Right before she explodes
My room is bathed in softness
It makes me think of poetry
And wildflowers
And kites that never come down
I think that the night
For all the adoration she receives
Has nothing
On this sort of
Peacefulness
This life is a waste
All I do is take up space
Like the thoughts in my head
And the food I am fed
All I do is consume
But I am running out of room
To hide the fact
That I am actually nothing
But Empty

— The End —