He writes it all down.
While he is stuck in this ghost town.
He never looks behind.
Knowing these ghosts are not kind,
If they find out he is not like them.
They would freeze him from the inside out.
Thinking he is coal amon the gems.
He tries to break out.
Trying to escape without them seeing,
That he is fleeing.
He is not much unlike them.
He never caused any mayhem.
Yet they all point at him,
Every time the crime seems to brim.
The only evidence that he is not like them,
That he is very much alive and not decayed,
Are his eyes that shine like two jades.
He stops writing as his hand starts to feel numb.
YOU ARE READING
my Poems
PoetryJust a book I will use to publish my poems. My poems mostly are about not happy topics like depression, loss, remorse, etc. But I do have a few happy ones.
