With eyes half closed
We live in death
All half-asleep
In search of rest
With abstract goals
We stumble on
Eight hours a day
Until it’s gone
- Comment
- Reblog
-
Subscribe
Subscribed
Have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
I like how this reads like something that can play on repeat in the mind of someone in a severe depression, like I am sometimes. The rhyme scheme makes it sound like thoughts mocking the thinker.
LikeLiked by 1 person