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Their lips are moving to the steady beat
And I have shaken dust from my mind of concrete.
While I have denied the truth in my room
Whispers crawl through the windows like toxic fumes.
Flowerbeds are covered in ashes
And my hair is missing in patches.
White walls, are you still listening close?
Stay quiet while I force my pose.
There is something behind the curtains of my windows,
And a copper scent inflating the room with a forceful blow.
I'm nauseous with my own thoughts
But I'm still stuck in the time I have bought.
Streaks of black line the doorpost
And I'm haunted by the words I've screamed the most.
Shouts of anger and hatred stick around
While I'm still waiting to be found.
Mommy sleeps soundly next door
And I'm silent on the speaking floor.
Daddy left me to fend for myself,
Slipping away with his mischievous stealth.
But that's just fine, because I don't have to share
My little world where I breathe without a care.
There's secrets lodged in the corners of my ceiling,
And I'm taping over them when the wallpaper begins peeling.
You mustn't know the darkness under my bed
For there are monsters way beyond your small-minded head.
Pity is futile when you're in a constant war.
But that's alright, for this is a battle I've won before.
You do not watch me as I slaughter and shout
For I do my victories in secret, where you know nothing about.
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Hope in the Mourning
PoetryCOMPLETE ✔️ Highest ranking: #175 in Poetry! (3/15/17) - Where there is mourning, there is also hope. Despite the struggles and the losses we mourn-mental, physical, or emotional-good can come out of it. But even when there seems to be not hope as a...
