Fighting through the pain, buried deep inside.
Walking past the sun with a heart opened wide.
I just keep falling with each step that I take.
There's nothing I can do, to stop the earth quake.
There's just me and my fears, sitting on the ledge.
Drawing lines on the dust, swinging on the edge.
My demons called me last night.
They wanted a fight,
with me as the prize.
There are a lot of things left to do.
A lot of me left, a lot of sunsets yet to see.
A lot of persons to be.
But I don't trust me.
The stars I see in the distant, are now non-existent.
The air around feels still and hollow, I feel shallow.
Dreams are pulling me down in the deep,
with chains holding me in place.
The water assaulting my every breath.
The waves eating my face.
The deeps burn me. It stings like a bee.
The mask is melting somehow.
They can see my real skin now.
They, the perfect people, their perfect faces,
perfect words, and their perfect dresses.
How do you find peace in insanity,
a savior in calamity,
human in humanity?
I'm free and caged,
I'm alive and dead.
Everything and nothing.
I fade.
...
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Thoughts of a Juvenile
PoetryWords are sharper than knife they say. Yes it is true. Some perfectly moulded good words can both make and break a heart easily. A poem is a group of such perfectly moulded words given wings to fly. They fly through the mind and heart easily. A hob...
