The weighted blanket,
I wasn't meant to carry,
layer after layer,
of burned threads,
leaving stains where they are,
for it wasn't made for my bed.
Apr 23, 2025
Apr 23, 2025 at 9:44 PM UTC
The weighted blanket,
I wasn't meant to carry,
layer after layer,
of burned threads,
leaving stains where they are,
for it wasn't made for my bed.
I wrote this poem about burdens, traumas, life events, that occur in each of our lives that weren't ours, but somehow or for some reason, fell on us to be responsible for or to take on its identity.
Request permission to use this poem