Another meal skipped,
Bruises cling to my eyes,
Reside everywhere within my mind.
No one dares look back,
Eyes are the window to the soul,
My soul isn't mine, and the window I have are blocked off with glasses, makeup, and exhaustion.
People stare, everywhere but there.
Everywhere but where I wish they'd look.
Everything I am hurts,
When I move my core cries in boisterous agony.
Whenever I smile I feel like I will brake, the lips on my face are dry and crack in resentment towards the facade I have become accustomed to presenting.
If I laugh, I wish I could cry, knowing if I do I wont stop.
My sides seethed in rage as I laughed and every muscle within me tightened.
Another bruise forms within my eye...
YOU ARE READING
Metamorphasize
PoetryThis is a collection of poems written as a way to control a person's feelings; originally they were never intended to be seen by human eyes. This is written from the point of view of someone who struggles with emotional turmoil but feels they cannot...
