Itch
I feel an itch,
In the pit of my stomach.
In an a way,
It feels like a painful twist,
Reminding me of a world we fight for,
That will never exist.
The itch
It doesnt seem to go away.
It must be telling me,
That a distance,
Can be ten miles,
But can easily turn into a world.
The itch, I realize,
Is the life we live,
Bothering,
Pestering,
Reminding us,
Of the desolate world,
And how it cannot change.














Comments
--
"Life isn't passing me by... It's running me over"
--
Monkey see, monkey do.
And thanks ;D.
--
Monkey see, monkey do.
yup
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