I Can’t See Past.


Listening becomes
overly exerting,
when we’re both going to say
“I knew you would say that.”

I’m a spiteful being.

How I’ll greet you,
rests solemnly on how
your eyes will follow me.

And this world let’s beauty lead,
with this many flowers cower
whereas I’m such a flower;
delicate to touch
yet yearn for my handmade vase.

What it comes down to,

Eating three times a day;
getting moderate sleep
letting you know when I’m angry
and let you wash it down.

I live positively…

break and hit walls,
how I can’t scrap the foretold
upcomings of my “wanting more.”
Consequences of immersion.

Published by Sia Morweng

I'm Sia, and you're my new friend.

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