There’s this side to me that I rarely enjoy to let out. Despair tosses inside my stomach when I try to just be. It buries it’s self in my throat. Static ravages my chest. The build up keeps me distracted from any solution. Where do I find relief? A protest for peace is coming. May I sleep while you wage your war? It is in that nothingness that I am free. Oh, how I hate this side of me.
2 thoughts on “Fingers Linger.”
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