I want to speak
but my mouth won't make a sound.
I am angry
at how the tables turned around.
I try to write
but the words just aren't clear.
Why has all my might suddenly turned to fear?
I grasp and hold
at the fragments of my story
that has to be told.
So near to my fingers
yet so far that seems like a lie.
Where is that sanity?
Where is that life?
That I never got a chance to
completely call mine.
YOU ARE READING
The Truths of a Liar
Poetry"She is sane, no matter how trapped she feels; if anything at least she is braver in pretense." All the poems I upload are written by me over the course of a few years (and still going). Highest Rank 1st April, 2018 - #61 (Not an April fool's joke �...
