"amouts" poems
What is it to be lonely?
Does one get to a point where one's own presence become something to loathe?
Is it odd not to not to ache from this solitude?
I have heart grand amouts, but in those moments of silence and desolation.
I thrive in thought halting this worlds motion until the fading light if my vision cease.
Enveloped by what seems like darkness and stereotypical loneliness.
I feel more,
I see more.
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 2:20 PM UTC