Stagnant mist seeps through
this state of static silence .
Stale residual air
intermingles with my breath.
Like the smell of decay
saturating every inch
it fills my mouth, my lungs
makes my eyes bleed.
I no longer can see
myself, who have I become?
Occasional glimpses
of the girl I used to be
tear through my soul.
These moments are so fleeting
tantalising reminders,
leave a bad taste in my mouth.
YOU ARE READING
Intermission
PoetryPoetry written many years ago. I found my voice and lost it. As a step towards recovering my voice I decided to share these poems.
