[untitled]A Poem by C Peril
The mind a lonely place,
much routine, everything orderly, perhaps sterile. And you know where everything is. Too calm. [so] And then you invite strangers in. And there're footprints on the rug. Fires in the kitchen. Laughter that sounds harsh sometimes. Spillages spats spittle awkward silences stabbing each other with venomous words squabbling wobbling teetering into valuable things Like that vase which was your self-confidence or that painting you were fond of which you called hope. And the rowdy mob keep hoisting up your heart like a kite in a f*****g thunder storm, and you feel prone to ignition, frankly flammable, truthfully you're already burning but... Even if I have to come down, I'll still open the door every time. © 2024 C PerilReviews
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1 Review Added on February 19, 2024 Last Updated on February 19, 2024 AuthorC PerilGY, Humberside, United KingdomAboutCreeping quietly towards 30 years of age. Based in Nowheresville, England. Writer (if we're being liberal with the term). Reader. Hoper. Believer. Lover of music and LFC. more..Writing
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