Constant movement.
Keep breathing fluent.
Breaths become short and she hyperventilates.
Brain whirls with storms that begin to form and destroy all common sense.
Cries threaten to claw their way out of her throat.
She groans and grunts in frustration.
She rubs her eyes repeated clawing at them, wishing that the poisonous tears that fill her eyes would cease their production.
She wishes it over.
She wishes it done.
She wishes for resolution.
She wishes for less pain.
She wishes for less drama, yet she started it.
She had never thought it would end this way.
Hypocritical, but who's suffering?
She is.
YOU ARE READING
No Name
PoetryThis compilation of poems are from times in which my brain was whizzing with pent up emotion that I needed to transfer from the depths of my heart and onto a page. The title is named so because I want you to interpret these poems in anyway possible—...
