Who are you?
Are you the things you've said?
Or perhaps the things you've done?
You don't know?
You'd best figure that out soon.
Where are you from?
Home?
Where is that?
You don't know anymore, you say...
They say home is where the heart is,
If so, then where is yours?
Capillaries barely holding together,
Arteries about to burst.
Your makeshift cast,
Made of nonchalance
and 'I'm okays',
Tearing at the seams,
Cracking plaster that's falling
to the bottom of your empty stomach.
What's wrong with you?
Everything?
You look fine to me...
But that's all that counts right?
Looking fine,
Out of the thousands of
masks that you wear,
not one of them looks like you
YOU ARE READING
Revelations
PoetryIt was really me. It was really you. There was really nothing we could do. To put it concisely, these are short, philosophical situations, feelings, and thoughts of different persons and personalities I've encountered.
