I was waiting on you
But you never came through
And I was not surprised
Because I knew
You never really cared
About meeting my needs
At all
Tag: wound
Borrowed Fire đ„
The thing with âborrowingâ, is, well, eventually, you have to give it back. đ§
Then what?
Grab Bag of Trinkets
Oooof.
It isnât right to beat a dead horse..
Yet, sometimes you just canât resist.
Method of Extraction
The narrator may be unstable, however, the arc that this poem follows is actually very coherent. This is no villain monologue. Thereâs no justification and no blame shifting.
Just a field note from an individual with turbulence dependence
Collective Being
Patterns that habitually rearrange and reemerge without authorship. Sometimes it seemmore like force and coercion.
With a sense ok
