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ConcoxidePoems
I don't feel like reading I don't feel like writing I don't feel like living But don't feel like dying If hope fills our pockets Then mines full of holes Since I don't feel much in there Only the lint common in clothes I'm told there's a journey With only one road To the center of something Some mention as soul And in this center we'd find What we've longed for all along Something brighter than diamonds And shinier than gold A little piece of something older Than the oldest of old It's so incredibly tiny Yet bigger than us all. This core, we share between us Like we're an orange's lobes Yet there is plenty to go around And for that, I'm thankful. And then, having arrived We rest...
0
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 11:02 PM UTC
The Journey Zenward
I don't feel like reading I don't feel like writing I don't feel like living But don't feel like dying If hope fills our pockets Then mines full of holes Since I don't feel much in there Only the lint common in clothes I'm told there's a journey With only one road To the center of something Some mention as soul And in this center we'd find What we've longed for all along Something brighter than diamonds And shinier than gold A little piece of something older Than the oldest of old It's so incredibly tiny Yet bigger than us all. This core, we share between us Like we're an orange's lobes Yet there is plenty to go around And for that, I'm thankful. And then, having arrived We rest...
Concoxide
Written by
Concoxide
M
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 11:02 PM UTC
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