A world of war sits and pity's me. Watching me fall down these shades of life endlessly, I hold my heart in the waves of my empathy, and I soak my sleeve with my tears unevenly. This is how we hold our souls up high. We break our necks and put our heads in the sky, this hell cant hold us,but they can. The thoughts in our heads and our broken hands. We seem to doubt more when we can't see. and the darkness varies, constantly inside of me. I know I'm not going through this world alone but I'm still alive and I am not sure how to go. My arms are just the music holding me down but my broken hands and veins are my words not the sound.
I'm breathing fine,I still have a heart and a spine but my arms are holding something of weight and it's my broken hands and they are here to break.
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I think this is all for today sorry guys I'm pretty busy right now. -Maya
YOU ARE READING
Words We Can't Say
PoetryA collection of poems for the voices that go unheard. -WARNING- Some of these poems may touch on subjects involving depression, anxiety and other things you may not be comfortable with.
