Gone
Every day has always been the same
Waking up at three–thinking
of the things I regret not doing.
Filling the room with noisy thoughts
that keep me awake ’til sunrise.
Staring at a blank canvas, 8 o’clock in the morning–
Grieving and unable to do anything.
Eating only bread and words left unsaid,
Hoping to puke out the sorrow and sadness.
Going out and walking after lunch,
Sun beaming on my skin, burning.
Wanting to run away and leave all behind
My habds and feet are bound by memories kept.
Resting too late at night, couldn’t sleep
Keeping all the lights on, afraid–
Of ghost that may appear at the dark
Memories of you, haunting me to sleep.
Every day has always been the same since you were gone.
—Spero, 2019
2019-07-28 16:04:04
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