My heart feels hollow
I stretch my hands to feel the beat
it's silence and decay
It sleeps and waits
For the spark
The music of the thump
The things that make me
Tick
My head is hollow
The soul is wading deep
In black waters
Of thick
I can't seem to, break this cycle
My hands tremble
Like wind in the sails
Of ships, stranded
Long ago
To grip to the shadows
Wrapped in woe
YOU ARE READING
trigger points.
PoetryA collection of my original poetry/prose from 2006 onwards. Warnings: these poems deal with mental illness, including mentions of self harm, suicide, emotional anguish and abuse. Please do not read if you might be triggered by such content.
