Colors more dull, than ever before,
How can it be, that smiling's a chore?
The lights are dim, and eyes even more,
But it's so pathetic, to the weight they bore.
The silences between, so loudly they roar,
So convincing, the grin I wore.
Chest so heavy, heart so sore.
So sharp, the pain to the core.
A dwindled flame, a closed door.
And in the end, what was it for?
Crying and screaming, tired and poor.
My, the hurt, is it also yours?
YOU ARE READING
Almost a poet
PoezieI'm trying my luck at poetry so it'd be great to get some feedback. Keep in mind that these poems are strongly related to depression, anorexia, and things of that sort. If you are recovering, this story is not recommended for you.
