Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2018
The reflection of the car imprinted on the crystal clear glass of he grocery store slides along the path from door to door. I really wish I could stay. but every time I close my eyes, this image will play. over and over. Rows of lights staged neatly upon the ceiling of my entire life, giving false sight by florescent light. Its just.. the world outside is so bright. We've created shade, to seal us from nature. And we call it architecture. And that's our true failure.
Written by
One nut bob  19/M
(19/M)   
138
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems