Trauma
Trauma.
It’s like blobs in eternity.
Grappling around with trembling or not.
Trembling or nothing.
A nothing day.
Just a nothing type of flower bud.
Just a do nothing burden feeling.
Scrambled clouds happen to me.
It is called nonexistence.
Me.
Has bubbles burbling.
Almost felt like my own.
Was almost me.
But I got eclipsed by some friendly nonexistence.
Shifted like ice cream fell off the cone.
Splattered like the end.
Endless week-long shivering.
Speckled with leftover goosebumps.
No one called all week.
It’s almost like trauma.
Continues.
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