• _firefly 12w

    Of growing up and nostalgia.

    A throbbing thought pricks your heart, while you swallow all your guilt of procrastination down your throat. The pending work lying over your desk, glares at you, horribly, projecting the failure you approach. Your undone hair frustrate your eyes, dried from the absence of poetical pastel clouds in the sky above your head. The mornings are chilly and the afternoon are like the childhood summer days where you clenched your fists to your father's shirt, while he drove you to the ice cream parlour, but now you're grown up and you miss everything. The city lights blur the vision of night sky and the gardenias can't be smelled anywhere near your crowded industrial street. You run a mile, or sometimes two, for it seems to lessen the crowd around and the burden you carry on your chest, a responsibility of being something/someone in your mortal existence. You drink loneliness, and it quenches your thirst for solace. You suddenly feel alive, more like a recovered human and less like a lost poet.


    @writersnetwork thank you for ❤

    ~some raw emotions

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