I can feel the blade twisting into my gut,
The world echoing within the black.
'Is this the end?'
I scream into nothing.
You know of all of this but,
You still turn your back.
'I'm so happy of what I tend,'
You say and yet nothing proves understanding.
Do you think I've stayed alive by giving my thought?
No, I've stayed silent as a mouse,
Not a peek of my pain
Spoken aloud.
I've done gone and bought,
Even the loudest of our house,
To try and hide and maintain,
This vision of perfection, a cloud.
It hides my demons,
It starves my soul,
It feed my lust and greed,
The forever need.
It kills my friends in ions,
It raised the goal,
Making it an impossible deed,
So without a steed.
Please remember I've tried,
And I've survived.
But only upon my own terms,
Never your loligagging lies.
Never underestimate how much I've died,
All on the inside,
I'll never show you my dead and worms,
Eating me away, just like the flies,
They swarm my body,
Craving my end.
I allow it,
Because...
Nobody,
Will tend,
To my bones, the lights lit,
And I still have no cause.
~Me, March 27
YOU ARE READING
The Dark Poems In My Head
PoetryThis is those little whispering poems that weasel their way into my wonderful brain. Don't know how this'll turn out, but, you know how it goes! Lets try something new! It is mature because some of this shit is bad! Extremely! Not sexual, but words...
