Little Left (Creative Writing)
Some rushed writing to keep me focus.
My feet don’t travel so my mind does, with little regard or respect for what surrounds it.
But I don’t find any blame around I could place upon it, as it’s not like i’ve given it much room to breathe of late.
It seems shaky at best most times
and seems lazy at worst the rest.
And there is little rest.
So there is little left.
Repetition exhausts so alter anyway possible.
Flashing lights or lighter fluid.
Wine flowing or relatable shows.
There is little left.
