At some point, your phone will die.
The music will turn off.
Your skin will be pulled away,
And all you are left with is your emotion.
You are left with your hurt.
It is just you and the air conditioning.
It won't tell.
And I won't either.
So, who are you?
Do not charge your phone.
Do not play music too loud to drown it out.
Do not turn to red marks.
Do not grab a book and mask your pain.
Tell me who you are.
Without the music.
Without the lights.
Without the clothing and the painted expressions.
Tell me what you are.
Without your lies.
Without your faults.
Without the things you hang on the wall.
Who are you when the mirror is not your friend?
Do you recognize yourself?
The pain. The guilt. The trauma.
No, because you never faced it.
What do you hear?
The tears you sobbed that night,
As they took from you what you were?
The joy that slipped through the cracks
Of your broken smile?
The void of nothingness—nothing known?
When the lights go off,
And all you know fades,
Do you miss your mask?
Do you miss the headphones?
Tell me what you choke on.
The AC won't tell.
Was it a confession of love?
A poem?
A forgiveness?
It's not too late to accept it in your soul.
When there's nothing to distract you,
No blue light in your face,
No buzzing to remind you that you exist,
Not even the sting of a knife—
Do you feel whole?
Or are you a collection of fractured pieces,
Glued together before you walk out the door?
(It isn't waterproof. I checked the label.)
Tell me,
Not what you show the world—
But what you show yourself,
When no one is looking.
-August xoxo
YOU ARE READING
When the music's off and the room gets empty
PoetryA collection of random poems I make 'when the music's off and the room gets empty' this IS a cry for help. hugs and kisses MWAH!
