We come to this world half empty & half full, where one would simply achieve only to fill in that other empty side, so we strive for it, crave for it only to once see, that it can only be, what all of us can dream, but can't seem to achieve.
But none of that, it seems I came defected, I was told that no, that you should suppress, to pretend, to impress, no need to suffer that stress.
I learned to conceal that of what makes me human. I got so good at it i can no longer feel, no need for these thrills. But I cannot fix the unfixable, this would soon make me ill.
This is what it meant to them, human that was only a man, that cannot mend, that does not tend & be weak.
So I instead drained that other half, became empty inside, with no more than a memory of that thorn on my side.
Now where did it go you ask? I suppose its not gone only postponed, imprisoned never to return, giving me this unique tone and a sense of cure. A feeling that it was completely disposed.
I now regret, not because it was a mistake, but because I did not know my fate. Having to make others understand it wasn't your choice and now it's too late. This is who I became.
I'm a human not so human that is ill, does not feel but pretends of these thrills. This is what I was taught...the true meaning of being Concealed.
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ESTÁS LEYENDO
Pensamientos que naufragan en el mar de los Incomunicados
PoetryVoy a experimentar con la poesia "slam" espero que les guste.