It's not even sadness.
It's faded, the madness.
Just pressure remains,
On your heart,
In your veins.
Staring and seeing,
But not understanding,
This world, this being.
It's just emptiness,
Nothing more,
Like a candle extinguished,
A shell, relinquished.
And you try to ignore,
'Till nothing more,
You feel and you cry:
"But I do care-
I do!
So deeply that I can't still care,
If I don't want it to tear,
Me into two pieces.
No
Thing
More.
YOU ARE READING
impressions
PoesíaI'm going through life experiencing existing and not so exiting, normal and extraordinary teenage stuff, so these are my impressions of the world around me.
