Within the pit of my stomach
A twisting worm writhes.
I plaster a smile across me
To conceal my inner grief.
'Tis more a discomfort, I say, I'm fine, I don't feel any pain.
Truth be told, I don't know what I feel
What is right or wrong, what is false or real
What even the worm is,
Why my stomach clenches,
Why my lips say lies while my heart wrenches.
Truth be told, I don't know why it does so
Why a word makes my pulse race,
And my lungs increase pace
Truth be told, I don't know what I feel!
I don't even know if my feelings are real.
YOU ARE READING
Melancholia
Poetry"Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility." - William Wordsworth
