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DybbukPoems
I am the words of scorn on a child's lips, for a sleepy, fetid home. I am ingratitude, and spilt milk. I am the frozen boxer, the burnt lightbulb. I am the sickly mirror, who peers into an illusion of identity. I am pain, and nerve. I am the one who waits.
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Apr 11, 2019
Apr 11, 2019 at 5:32 PM UTC
Barlow
I am the words of scorn on a child's lips, for a sleepy, fetid home. I am ingratitude, and spilt milk. I am the frozen boxer, the burnt lightbulb. I am the sickly mirror, who peers into an illusion of identity. I am pain, and nerve. I am the one who waits.
#life#highschool#teenage#growth#change
Dybbuk
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Dybbuk
Apr 11, 2019
Apr 11, 2019 at 5:32 PM UTC
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