poetry

this pillow, and that damn thinking disease…

laying down. to rest my head.
as that damn thinking disease, starts to spread. no one to wrap these arms around. my head spins out of control. trying to calm, a heart and soul, ready to go. cursed with a gift… i can’t even give away. i’ve been killing time, that’s killing me. holding this pillow, as tight as i can. closing my eyes, but my heart knows. this pillow, could never calm my thoughts. spreading…
like a disease.
-Joshua Ryan Stewart

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