Childlike
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Nights are where my mind uses my saved stress to play out a story of rumination.
It does this for me when I find the peace that can’t obtain the goods that I assumed were lies.
Your shelter, Your illusion
coldblooded, halfhearted
this eternal masquerade
You are wasted rotten
with mirrors gold;
reflections twisted,
subconscious mold,
ice-cold camaraderie.
Child Like by Natasha Bartley
When did I realize I wasn’t a kid anymore, you ask?
I have yet to understand the concept.
Of child.
They taunt me at night
I sleep with a light
My fingers curl underneath
And I tuck in my feet
I shiver and quiver
I can see the moon glow silver
I hide my head
And curl up in bed
I sat in my bath and wondered about how sad is the woman who has never taken a hot bubble bath late at night and has never caught herself dozing off to the aroma of lavender?
The world is a lonely place for a child so small,
Everyone is big and scary,
