Four hours to death.
The darkness crawls upon my skin
like ink on paper,
gloom's colour leaks out to the terrace.
I try to scribble thoughts into reality--
yet another failure.
Forgive me,
I have nothing to carve into you.
YOU ARE READING
Anxiety and Things that Shatter
Poetry"Anxiety, you are lightening and a thunder only I can hear. In my despair, you wear an intimidating smile like a glittering stretch mark on the skin of the horizon." Cover by @DeathsDarkSoul
