My vision is already foggy I don't need a tinted glass to ruin my sight further
My other senses have dulled as well Hearing is bad... Spirits of the Earth still call For centuries, their wails unanswered
Why does my voice carry only so far as to meet my demons? And they dont just respond... They muster and find home in the housing of my soul
I can smell them on me In me So I drown them out Cinammon, Sea Breeze, and Fresh Linen burn constantly Lit by each of my regrets
The tongue is still sharp Death has a very distinct flavor Thriving in the air like a virus, it permeates
Its taste has penetrated the airs of my safest places And now, I eat absent of hunger In fear death becomes all too familiar
Fate has carefully positioned me here But I will view the world for the wondrous entity that it is
Afterword: So this may be the last poem I post for a while. I've loved sharing but I feel like I haven't been writing for myself recently. For now, I want to continue writing for the same reason I started. Thank you for reading.