Don't you wish to find me
even if you know where I am
I might look free
but my mind's so crammed
and the thought of forever,
I hate it, so much
'cause I've been here
for so long
that hope's become
a crutch,
being in my mind
has driven me out of it
the world's out of reach
'cause I'm in a pit
and the dirt keeps falling
but I'm still alive
body still healthy but
my mind can't thrive
and walls standing feels
like they're crashing down
and I'm so freaking sick
of making no sound
my everything's stuck
and the else moves too fast
whenever I move,
I know I'm gonna crash.
What's going on
explain, 'cause I'm confused
most of the time, I don't feel
my mind being used
I've been in here
for weeks and weeks on end
no one's come around
my bars, I have to bend
I don't know what this is
but it's made me insane
what way is there
to stop this weird pain
I keep searching my mind
for this word I've forgotten
behind the breezy puffs
of old filling cotton
What's that word for
self's demonization?
Oh wait, I remember it.
Isolation.
YOU ARE READING
Feathers: A Book of Poetry
PuisiA pencil is the spotlight of a soul. It tells them its okay to overflow. It tells them ideas are art, and that the best ones are masterpieces. Feathers is a collection of poetry by me to convey the beauty and undeniable strife of the world, and emot...
