There are thousands of modes of being in life
All which work in the very core of our existence,
Lackluster clock cells in our heart ticking away
Kindling apathetic passions after isolation.
The equivocal sense in our lives interconnected
Of wearied and malleable wire snaps so suddenly -
Maybe that the past haunts our shadow that
Even the strongest of alloys crumble to.
As we move on with our mechanical animations
Growing greater in progress and ductility,
Atmospheres of differing solders encase each of us
In which a helping hand would be appreciated.
No longer do those wires strain.
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"Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding"
- Kahlil Gibran
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...
