season has changed,
i ain't got caught in exchange of heart.
in a furious rage, i went on and on till i reached the start.
would he notice my shattered shell as i look unhinged?
would i not crumble all over the place feeling too high-pitched?
these are questions i ask but no answer comes.
i'm a mid of the crowd, standing high on toes.
if you think too low on my count, it's fine.
i know i'm aiming too high.
winter has faded,
but what i feel is enhanced.
i give you odd looks from out of the fence,
sneaking.
if i felt ghosted by you, would you still start speaking ?
anemoia
© Copyright: Неттер Линг, 2024
Свидетельство о публикации №124040303179
Свидетельство о публикации №124040303179
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