I Am Devastation
My poor mom.
It’s like I can feel her tears in my palm.
But I am only grasping my consciousness.
Because if I sleep, I shall be giving new scars in this mess.
I am sorry for being a devastation.
Mom, I want to trade this fever of revelation.
The reality floats, I can barely see.
Like these red, beeping dots, it only flashes in me.
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