Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2020
I am used to a certain thrumming,
Constantly whispering behind my eyes
Telling me that there are things to do,
Deadlines to fulfill,
And discussions to have.
But these voices do not murmur
And will not, for a while.
For the first time in months,
I wish that it wasn't
So quiet.
Fay
Written by
Fay  18/Non-binary/a dumpster fire
(18/Non-binary/a dumpster fire)   
45
   Alex
Please log in to view and add comments on poems