"everthought" poems
A heartbeat frettles under my skin,
upon my eyes, a darker tint,
this body, not more than a shell,
for all I know, I might be dead.
Along it came with my first breath,
this yearn, to paint the walls in crimson red
an everthought, my resting place,
for all I know, call me obsessed.
Mar 9, 2021
Mar 9, 2021 at 12:17 AM UTC