Photo by Tania Malréchauffé on Unsplash
small, dark and safe, hold
all your creatures for second
birth, womb of decay.
About the Creator
Chloë J.
Probably not as funny as I think I am
Insta @chloe_j_writes
3:40am
There is a mourning in living, In waking every day, And remaining, Where the slings of fate can reach you, And conjure to your mind, Such futures immaterially real and forboding, That you pray for mercy, Pray for lacklustre and dry numb deadness, That you'd worry people if they chose to hear, If you chose to talk, If you made any choice at all, For once.
By Conor Matthews6 days ago in Poets
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