Angels sitting on my chest
Forgetting to allow me to rest
I hear them singing out of tune
Telling me that I will meet them – soon.
I hide in the oncoming traffic
Disembodied. Soulless. Tragic?
Tears spill on thoughts I never had
I store them away in an overflowing bag.
Black clouds are frozen in place
If I keep going, I won’t leave a trace
My mind is sore from the voices inside
And still, there is no sleep in sight.
“Mind is sore from the voices inside ” aptly describes life in such crazy times
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I guess it does. Thank you for popping in. 🙂
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