My stomach a fist
When entering the door
Of predigested decisions
And bland ideas.
The tiny speckle of hope
And possibility of self expression
keeps me going
In and out.
Science meets poetry
My stomach a fist
When entering the door
Of predigested decisions
And bland ideas.
The tiny speckle of hope
And possibility of self expression
keeps me going
In and out.
I love this. I’ve felt this way myself.