shades of me.
bright getting darker..
an unseen version of me,
one I drew by myself with a black marker
less of me.
the more the clock ticks
the the stranger i get in my own eyes
cold as stone,
not even my own tears move me.
lost.
no way back.
That's who I've become.
YOU ARE READING
The Voice of My Silence
PoetryThe words that he spat germinated and grew into the tree that overshadowed him What goes around.. From the author: vote and comment if you like what you see
