White Noise
February 25, 2026 —
Ranja Steward
A poem from an insomanic mind
The world has come to an an
end but I missed the
last flight.
Silence is robbing my sleep,
it gives way to the noise in
my head mind.
No time to rest but nothing
to do. Too busy with nothing,
but idling on through.
Falling through time but
stuck here in space.
The white noise is calling,
it's stopping my pace.
Tags: handwritten, poetry