i can feel the ribbon of sanity fraying
and the ends have burnt to a crisp,
a wildfire tamed like a disrespectful cat
that clawed its' ways, held up for regard
what was left with my supposed conscience.
So I burnt the satin, killed the cat of
its scratching curiosity, and it stopped.
the tears of doubt have stopped.
except I'm left with the charred edges
that melt the differences,
that were once so intricate,
that mesh together the fine lines
of what it takes to survive
and what it takes to be a survivor
YOU ARE READING
Silence in the Walls
PuisiThis 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...
