Everyone’s staring and it’s seemingly disturbing.
Asking myself, “ What’s the reason? ”
Did I do something terrible?
Maybe I’m just wondering?
Or worst a wandering soul?
Does anyone know?
What am I feeling right now?
What am I talking about?
No one can see it!
No one can feel it!
Because I’m dead.
But still am overthinking things.
Weird, right?
What to do?
Can’t think about something.
I just want to run away!
I want to disappear!
And never come back here!
I was mute!
I was deaf!
But never been blind enough!
Not to tell I’m an art!
You know who are the dead?
The people who tortured me!
I was once a living creature,
But then they made me a dead creature.
That’s why they call me Art!
Because I’m the Art of the Dead!
YOU ARE READING
Lista de Poesía
PoetryA compilation of poems that needed to be addressed. Hence, it is also a poem for my repressed emotions buried within.
