Thinking, falling, out loud
The leaves here are falling
It’s time to move on
With an awareness of what I gave me
That which drew in
the decay for so long
Rust on the window frame
The whisper screaming
‘I don’t belong’
Had no choice but to flip cards,
that I was never worthy of,
Leaves, barely touch, ice-cold pavements
without grieving, into strong
..
much of the same, Tara trauma ADHD poet
patterns and poetry, numbing