Rising From the Nonchalance
It’s the morning waking
Rising from the nonchalance
That I miss the most
Even those that were cold
And so snowy I would get wet feet
Those that were freezing cod
With the wind what ran right through my jacket
Those ones just vomitus
Or when my body demanded it was too
Early making me go back to sleep
What I found here was another me
Who missed mornings of not here
Copyright © Cs Parker | Year Posted 2017
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