They've never seen me out my cell,
I'm always behind bars.
Trapped inside my own cursed spell,
Slicing open scars.
With demons protecting me from the light,
And the angels' ridicules,
I thought I'd never survive the night,
But darkness is my fuel.
If a heart is made to be broken,
Why not shatter it first?
Drowning in the blood it's soaked in,
Content to have satisfied it's thirst.
Teardrops heal the damaged,
Or do they snap them further?
Like us, you are but ravaged,
But don't we all stay in fervor?
Everyone's blind, but we can see,
We know we're something else.
We're all different; you and me,
That's what we tell ourselves.
Let's chat with the voices in our heads,
With no apparent reason,
Party with the monsters under our beds,
In our handmade prison.
YOU ARE READING
The Silence of My World
PoetryA collection of poems conjured by an amateur writer. A compilation that reflects the writer's thoughts, muses, feelings, and some was spun fictionally. A miscellany of randomness, with a deep meaning, or just a vent poured out of a pained and tortur...
