In a void, wrapped in loneliness and pain,
like a red ribbon on a gift box,
I seethe in frustration,
and deem myself a fool.
Agnoy often leaves one acting unfair,
so here I lay, in a puddle of my misery,
withering in pain like an unloved flower,
blaming myself when I am uncapable,
of blaming those around me.
Disconnected like a broken wire, phone dangling,
staring at nothing and biting my lips,
while disappointment makes my heart clench.
I am here, but I wish I was anywhere else.
Pain, like a sharp edge of a knife,
cutting my skin, drawing out blood,
and putting in negative thoughts;
I am stuck in my bleeding body,
holding onto a heavy, bruised heart.
What is worse, I wonder:
Hurting, or being alone?
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The Beauty Of Imperfection | a poetry collection
ŞiirA poetry collection about the emotions and thoughts I have as I go through the journey of growth and accepting the imperfections, in me and in my poetry. It is all about searching for meaning in what seems mundane at first glance, and seeing the b...
