I’m the coward
Who pretends to be brave.
It’s me
Who only knows how to blame.
It’s me.
I can only keep walking,
Because it’s me
Who doesn’t know her own way.
It’s me
Who only thinks to keep staring at the sky.
It’s me
Who’s a coward to fly.
It’s me
Who thinks I’m alone in the crowd.
It’s me
Who doesn’t know how to describe being alone or lonely.
It’s me
Who can think of all the unhappy things.
It’s me
Who can’t even remember good memories.
It’s me
Who only describes herself.
And at the end of the day, it’s me
Who still can’t figure out what’s happening to me.
YOU ARE READING
" Trapped In The Fear Of Darkness "
PoetryThe poem begins with a sense of restlessness as the speaker struggles to fall asleep, finding the act of dreaming increasingly irritating. These dreams haunt them every day, presenting a familiar, nightmarish scenario where they are ensnared like pr...
