53. The wind is whispering all these sweet nothings

The air is cold,
with stories untold.
I stay on my bed,
with thoughts in my head.

I hear the whispers,
like long love letters.
Telling me it’s okay,
tomorrow will become a better day.

The coldness is creeping,
and here I am falling,
towards the pit of darkness,
I want to escape this mess.

And once again it whispers,
the wind with trees rustling altogether.
The nature tells me it’s going to be alright,
hope must always be on our sight.

*inspired by life (I’m distracted by a ship. LOL)
*no photo as my aesthetic inspiration for today

 

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