I can't help but turn,
to look at my surroundings.
My stomach churns,
uneasiness lingering
I met them in a shop,
Fashion not being my best sense,
And saw them in their frilly crop tops,
Lowering my defence.
It was like they could read my mind
A blissful, unattainable kind of link
The kind that they could unwind
the complex knots of - in a blink
They drained me.
Sucked
Me void of emotion,
Ditching
Me for the vultures,
Encircled
by their cunning.
Perhaps I was the fool.
Whose delusions cast a pink glow
Of my reality. Being "cool" -
The idea is lost on me now.
They speak of me hurriedly,
My name mentioned in passing,
But the glances at me,
the giggling, mocking.
The words plague me by day
And bring paranoia to my dreams.
So I can't help but think
Who will it be next?
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"Floundering in a pool of hesitation and trepidation constitutes stagnation. You can't rise from the ashes if you refuse to walk through the fire"
- David Roppo
YOU ARE READING
Silence in the Walls
PoetryThis is for those who lost or found their voices. This is for those who could and could not breathe. This is for anyone who is stuck or escaped the dismal abyss of all-consuming emptiness. This is a reminder; a representation of the hardships we co...
