I mourn the death of who I am. Looking in the mirror to see a grim ghost, a monster, the goblins we fear at night. The dark will never be scarier than me. Oh, I grieve the way I must let go of who I was. Looking back on a far better day that travels down the path of memories that slowly fade. Almost as if it's a vacation only for them to return back at convenience and leave again. Running back and fourth across my chest, my heart had been stomped on. A simulation of nostalgia. Only seeing what I miss but craving what I want. Going backwards and forwards. Flying across the moon and swimming through the forest I do anything to get what I want, giving things up, but miss those things once they're gone. I wish to be older yet younger after time. Life gets a bit tough so I sew and patch it with thread and twine. I mourn the death of my carefree ways without a mirror breaking my day into pieces. I can only experience fragments of a different routine. Every other day is consisted of mourning. Crying internally over hating and loving myself at once. Being too insecure yet too cocky I want to hide as a window with curtains. To be able to open up my heart and close it just the same. I will try unless it comes to be the time of my death, until then, I will mourn the day.
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Pitiful
Poetry"Never trust a scream, it lies with its fear, it's scared of the truth, it's scared for you to hear." A collection of poems made about me and to be read by you. Please enjoy. ⚠️Content warning⚠️: May contain triggering content.
