Anger envelops our body crossing through our logic, our hope, as well as our caring, followed by untamed rage which transfixes itself with in our mind forcing us to believe that all whom surround us are the reason we cling to this wretched feeling which inflamed within our souls, we speak so frequently words we do not mean, or rather words we only think within the privacy of our own thoughts, but they escape breaking from secrecy and flooding those who hear them with pain and surprise, tears blind us from those emotions that wash across their face which is not ours, we forget that others can be fazed sometimes easily by what we say, but in such a moment we recognize only our own ripping seams, most times the longing thought of crumbling to the earth beneath darkness seems quite sound, no one to expect from you what you cannot offer, no one to tell you off as a problem, insensitive and unpleasant are the words that echo in your head as you slumber, or at least attempt because it is more likely that you are kept up at night by the nightmarish monster that lingers behind the pitch black and tells you that you are nothing, threatening words that are blades at your heart, only blades feel better when lining your flesh, an escape from chaos, counting scars, what they do not know surely can cause no pain.
YOU ARE READING
Beneath my Cloak
PoesieLess a book then random poetry. I decided to give it a try. I write crappy poetry all the time why not share it and give it a shot to relate.
