Insomniac nights
don't do much for the self esteem
don't exactly soothe a damaged psyche
don't mend a tattered heart
No, these nights
don't do wonders for the soul
don't exactly make me feel at home
don't mend every open wound
These nights
are when my thoughts get to wander
and drag me unwilling out the door
til my teardrops mingle with
freshly fallen snow.
~January 22, 2014~
~ShatteredScribe~
Old poetry needing to be uploaded to make way for the new.