Feel it stabbing into me, that searing static noise,
As they drill around and cut so deep into my brain.
My pathetic want of illusory grandeur, a piece of paper is all it takes.
Every word feels like a dragging train parading my body on a road of blades.
Science and maths that I loved most of all,
Are like rolling mountains that I have to crawl.
So good with words, English I really like,
But now I'm terrible with language I don't know why.
My simple view of the world revolving around school,
Now feels like a complicated maze that suffocates my soul.
The resolve I own can't seem to solve,
The demons' homework of "swinging on a tight rope."
Mimicking robots, I count days like numbers;
Every second feels like an hour on space.
Every minute I hypnotically swim through words,
With every moment ultimately leading to a waste.
Is it really wrong to question what I learn?
Is it really right our way of new normal now?
Can you really understand the words behind the screen?
Can they really see who turned our hearts to become bleek?
I wonder who could it be?
Can you tell me?
YOU ARE READING
Moon Child | Ongoing
Poetry"Home isn't always four walls. Sometimes it's one warm embrace And two people's heartbeats as one. " - Moon Child (StarHues) Collection of poems mostly tackling about falling in love with someone out of your reach. Musings about the pain of unrequit...
