only the glow of my laptop illuminates the yawning night.
This house hums it's own familiar tune,
This house hums it's own familiar tune,
one I've listened to on many of my midnight wanderings,
which is all at once comforting and disconcerting.
I feel like I'm the whisper of a ghost,
I feel like I'm the whisper of a ghost,
floating through rooms,
touching what isn't mine.
I return to the thought of being a fraud,
I return to the thought of being a fraud,
having everything that I don't deserve.
In the expanse of blackness surrounding me,
In the expanse of blackness surrounding me,
nothing seems real.
Too many waking hours pass by,
Too many waking hours pass by,
and when the light finally comes,
I've never been so alive.
Angela Minard2011©
1 Comments:
Soothing.
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