Sleeping at dusk An eyeless black husk As mist swirls around She drops to the ground Her head is getting further and further from her skull But away is the only place she has to go. The sky's turning white Her hands feel so warm She needs to get out Decisions lie torn They lie on the ground soeroundong Her figure. The baiege plauge will cause, Her to pull on the trigger.
Quarantine is kinda terrible, I'm just writing this for poetry club tho