Poem made for a school competition :)
When living in a dream state, it's hard to tell apart what is real...
...and what is not.
But then again,
weren't the lines always blurred?
A soft tapping
Pulls me out of the fog.
Where I am, what to do,
It doesn't really matter.
It's the same droning voice,
Pen in hand against a sheet scribbles
Row upon row of symmetrical tables,
Where nameless vessels sit.
The faint ticking to my right—
tick...tock...tick...
—familiar, amongst the deafening silence
encased in white walls.
Rhythmic scratches stop to the joyous chime,
as we get up to leave.
A blinding light seeps from the door,
A distinct smell clenches my sleeve.
Arms branch out, like growing vines,
Latching onto my shoulder,
Staring into the faceless thing, I notice—
a small flicker in the corner.
Too tiny to really count as anything
but it happens again, lasting longer—
A smile,
Specks of colour,
Eyes,
Fingers of some other.
And for a moment,
I feel this sense of serenity
as the fog clears- just a bit.
Snapping it's bound,
It shatters to the ground,
And I'm left questioning
If anything really happened.
Gazing upon the scrawls etched on the board,
Movements somewhat slurred,
I think to myself—
Were the lines always blurred?
YOU ARE READING
My Sins
PoetryA collection of poems I wrote, about my experiences and hardships. Hope you like it 👍 (Updating once a week x) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ > (PS, it can be quite negative so, if you don't like that kind of thing, I wouldn't suggest reading it: Eg. Drowning)...
