Am I Real?
Am I an illusion?
Because it feels as if
I'm not myself.
Just a vague outline.
I'm a black hole,
Burdened on the inside,
Dark for the outer world
And insensitive to light.
I try to be calm but
This rational thunderstorm,
Daunting to be ceased is
Contentedly caught in my core.
Thoughts seek to hold me
Inside the rib-cage
Of our torment,
Unstoppable and unbearable.
Am I real?
Because I can feel it.
I can't be a shadow now,
For shadows don't love...
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THE PREMISE OF LOVE
PoetryMy Poetry, the art form of the soul, is an exquisite tapestry of language that weaves together emotions, thoughts, and experiences with skillful craftsmanship. It is a captivating expression of the human spirit, transcending time and culture, to tou...
