When I finally begin to stir,
I rise and look at myself in the mirror.
There, I'm painfully reminded of my woes.
I have nothing left to boast.
I fall into the glass pane
and onto a beach just drenched in rain.
The sounds of my past consumes me.
They ring of old tales so loudly.
What I hear doesn't frighten anymore
thanks to the hoodie I once wore.
It kept me warm in the coldest of nights
but the chill no longer takes a bite.
The warmth now spreads to my whole body,
independent of my fabricated reality.
The void left from no tunes grows massively.
My feelings once filled it, but there remains nothing sadly.
I'm left stranded without a soul to care for,
and without a boat, I lay on my own shore
bare and broken.
Cast astray and aside by my own,
I lay here knowing I've been shown
that I'm neglected and forgotten.
There's little hope now of being saved.
If I am, I'm found withered and weak,
devoid of energy, and in a place forever bleak.
My words will whisper in the air others breathe
until my lungs are full of defeat.
YOU ARE READING
The Welting Chess Board
Poesiajust a collection of quick thoughts with some long term emotions |(letter)| = certain people it's made out to btw read a bit and enjoy
