Breath, it comes, with a heaving drain,
For this night, it bores, through my brain.
Sight, it peers, bootless, vain,
The melange of silence keeping me sane.
So here I sit in the darkness, seeping,
I exist, not happy but at least not weeping.
Nov 14, 2017
Nov 14, 2017 at 5:44 AM UTC
Breath, it comes, with a heaving drain,
For this night, it bores, through my brain.
Sight, it peers, bootless, vain,
The melange of silence keeping me sane.
So here I sit in the darkness, seeping,
I exist, not happy but at least not weeping.
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