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ORANGE

If you don't learn to write your own story, someone else will write it for you

23 poems·Since September 2019
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Eosophobia

September 21, 2019

I hope tomorrow never comes.

Tonight to last forever.

 

If we wake to the sun,

rays on our face,

it's too late.

I'll know  theres no time to leave this place.

 

Morose feeling inside.

 

I peak through the blinds,

trying everything to hide behind

what lies outside.

 

Hope.

Empty,

denied.

 

Like each revolution, arise.

Light pollution, flooded skies

blind me, I try

to lower my eyelids to die

with the sun.

 

Ash to ash.

Dust to dust.

Eosophobia, kill me.

Dawn is on the cusp.

 

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