(no subject)
it's not the day
feet pounding paths to every corner
eyes darting to avoid the sun
racing to drink it all in
it's not the night
running between open doors
foreign voices blending
becoming a part of
subconcious ideas of home
it's the second before sleep
the mind relinquishes all distractions
and all that is left for it
to wrap itself around
is a bittersweet void
feet pounding paths to every corner
eyes darting to avoid the sun
racing to drink it all in
it's not the night
running between open doors
foreign voices blending
becoming a part of
subconcious ideas of home
it's the second before sleep
the mind relinquishes all distractions
and all that is left for it
to wrap itself around
is a bittersweet void