I write poems
This one’s short and from a couple of years back A protective layer cocoon, no one can touch me, body, not caring for myself
I write poems
This one’s short and from a couple of years back
Hold on.. wait
A protective layer Weight on when around people who cause me stress A layer of insulation Of hiding Of making myself small When wanting to feel cocooned no threat to those who might turn on me No care, no desire to look after me No one to impress
But then the shame Weight put me on hold It was not living In a constant state of wait
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- fetched_at
- 2026-06-27 18:20:27
