Life beneath the words at play.
A dark mystery
shrouded in light
that doesn't shine.
Like lives described
with short few words
filling blank pages.
Collecting dust
as no one reaches to see
the faint whisper of beauty
in the lies, they're fed.
They don't want discovery.
They want to hide.
To conceal pain, depression and the anxiety of their inevitable doom.
What words they never spoke when their hope was
diminished and killed.
When they never survived,
but I did.
To tell a story is something
they hoped they would do,
but they thought they couldn't.
Untold, until now.
Things changed.
YOU ARE READING
Life Beneath The Words At Play
PuisiMy poetry is only to fill blank pages. You decide how to color it in. That meaning, you can interpret the poems the way you want. I only put the words together, and you decide the rest :) Yet another poem dump for my unorganized mess that is my poe...
