oh, to self-soothe like a wounded fawn. the hours are unmoving. the lights disorient. the city collapses on top of my head.
this world is too impatient with bewildered hearts like mine.
Feb 24, 2022
Feb 24, 2022 at 12:54 AM UTC
oh, to self-soothe like a wounded fawn. the hours are unmoving. the lights disorient. the city collapses on top of my head.
this world is too impatient with bewildered hearts like mine.
Request permission to use this poem