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 Apr 2020 Ella James
I thought
I could be someone.
I thought the world would open
up it's arms and allow the low
and broken
a home
in which to calm.
I was wrong.
Whispered dreams seem to shatter
on the wind.
A breeze of hope
whisked away the things I know
replacing them with
spinning tears.
No more near-sighted dreams.
A hurricane of plans
span it's last gust.
Leaving our future,
tumbling thickly
as dust.
Yay, pessimism. Life's been getting me down lately.

— The End —