Silence.
That's all I hear.
Darkness.
That's all I see.
Cold.
That's all I feel.
Dryness.
That's all I taste.
Smell.
I can't smell anything.
This is proof that I live,
That I'm alone in this world,
That I am not important,
That no one is around to help.
Weak.
That is how I feel.
Pathetic.
I also feel like this.
I curl into a ball,
Hoping it helps in some way,
It doesn't,
Like everything else.
Nothing in this world can help me,
Nothing in this world can save me,
Nothing in this world can do anything to stop me.
If only,
If only I didn't live in a world that is filled with hate,
Violence,
Cruelty,
Agony.
At least I am alive,
For now.
YOU ARE READING
My Lonely Pathos
PoetryA series of poems, songs and whatever else is screaming in my mind. Pathos isn't something that comes to me, but when it does, it's written down and shared for those to see.
