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Thorny Poetry - 47. Bees
i lie down
then comes the noise
buzzing
like busy, busy bees
filling my head with
the worries of the day
plans for tomorrow
things i want to say
all my sorrow
and sleep is lightyears away
a million little thoughts
float around the surface of my mind
daring me to reach for them
so they can drag me under
caught in the undertow
where i swim in circles
chasing thoughts
i can see the surface above me still
the moon shines down into the murky water
where i swim
only just out of reach is she
and i’m stuck down here
brain buzzing
with busy, busy bees
and sleep is lightyears away
Depression doesn't help with writing prose, but I feel like I often get poetry out of it, somehow...
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