6:57 am, Monday, 22nd January
Your gentle actions negate the harshness that lingers in your words. You portray as an epitome of beauty and softness though your tongue betrays you. You are nothing but a ruin of shadows, coated in a darkness that has you dripping at the edges. You are a wolf with sheeps skin, yet your howl renders your disguise useless. Wickedness deems you singular.
They have not yet come to the realisation that you are not amongst us, you descend from a differing kind. But I've seen it, in the depths of your darkened amber eyes – I've seen all that proves to be your undoing.
YOU ARE READING
dysphoria
Poetrysilent pleas from a heart that's been tainted blue, a mind that ripples in constant turmoil and a mouth that remains shut //
