Someday

The insatiable nothing

at the pit of my stomach is stagnant,

for emptiness is a lack thereof feeling.

My heart clamours, but

the beat is estinto. My thoughts are

scattered, I stare up at the ceiling.

Pondering my state of being,

the purpose, my reason; I wonder

if this is all worth it.

Days pass me by, and

in years if I try, can I hope

to understand it someday?

Reviews

[Aura]

I know that feeling all too well. When your thoughts don't make sense in the moment, you feel anxious, heart beating fast, somewhat in a state of confusion. Will it ever make sense? Perhaps, someday it will. Excellently worded, I enjoyed reading this!

[😗 unknown soul]

amazing ..i just loved it ..nd the words that you have used its great!.

[_rabbitofhabit (1word)]

It's definitely talking about some stuff that I think'll be felt and talked about for a long time to come.

Very cool how you can turn an anxiousness into a form of art.