Two years ago I would be terrified.
Sitting alone in the dark,
A bus stop on an empty street.
My hands are under my legs,
Im not cold.
Ive stared at a yellow light,
I imagine its hue as the sun
It feels warm.
Sounds of faint wind whistles course from one ear to another,
I smile and take a deep breath in.
Here where I am sat, I belong.
I close my eyes and imagine what will come of me,
What will come of me?
The Artic air, the sinister setting complete a tranquil mind.
I have accepted all odds.
I am not scared.
Feb 6, 2021
Feb 6, 2021 at 1:32 PM UTC
Two years ago I would be terrified.
Sitting alone in the dark,
A bus stop on an empty street.
My hands are under my legs,
Im not cold.
Ive stared at a yellow light,
I imagine its hue as the sun
It feels warm.
Sounds of faint wind whistles course from one ear to another,
I smile and take a deep breath in.
Here where I am sat, I belong.
I close my eyes and imagine what will come of me,
What will come of me?
The Artic air, the sinister setting complete a tranquil mind.
I have accepted all odds.
I am not scared.
