Who would I be if I did not hold it in? Till I could not bare at the pressure pushing through my welded hull?
Ronnies blood..pulsing through my veins, making anger bleed out of each and every hole.
Towards the man that faces me when I catch a glance at my reflection,
for every person I keep touching,
that does not care to reach back and feel the warmth of my soul.
For every ember burns out. The fire engulfs each and every coal.
This person I am, this ship stripped to the bones holding me whole,
This prison I am in, in which the bars are just the ribs across my soul.
The bars in which I keep breaking, pushing through my chest,
Painting this home with the blood that I stole,
From the hole that I've dug within myself, so that I could decompress.
This life that I'm living, must be some sort of cruel test,
Because I keep pushing, walking, limping, running through it at best,
But time keeps moving, faster than I'm able to catch my breath.
Exhaustion doesn't describe it, nor does being depressed.
All I know is I keep getting up, not looking forward to getting dressed.
One of these days, I'll put on a suit, to look my very best.
I'll pull the trigger, and I'll meet God, wearing a fancy vest.
YOU ARE READING
The Darker Thoughts of me, Not sorry.
PoesieJust some poetry/writing that I cannot put into my original book. 18+, graphic but still somewhat relatable. Read on...
