It anguishes me to wonder if they'll leave bruises, scars. To know what's under these Slavering shackles that hold my entire existence down under tears and cold shadows. It pains me that I have imagine myself in a reality from which I do not have to listen to the constant clashing of chains. Being chased by the unseen is tiring. Pleading because of the understood is painful. Weeping cause of the understating is draining. And hiding from my true being is soul tearing. But in the end of it all I still hear the collision from the dry, dark, heavy chains behind my every move. Walking around this empty, hate forsaken world hoping to discover those who holds the keys. But until then being someone's marionette doll is all I know.
YOU ARE READING
Ūnspøkėn Wørds
PoetryCover by: @xHazelWilde A Collection of Stories Unknown to human kind, Or to thought. Pages of Life teachings that was supposed to be given but never was. ~WEEKLY UPDATES~
