He screams and kicks
But nothing's changed;
He slams his fists against the bricks,
He scratches them and tries to fix
His life, yet it remains deranged.
The walls are big and hard to break,
Thus his attempts are all in vain.
He wants to sleep, he wants so wake,
To silence the continuous ache
That falls upon him like the rain.
His mind is weak, his will is frail,
And they cannot be modified;
He starts to weep, he starts to wail,
He struggles but to no avail
For his soul has long since died.
YOU ARE READING
Poems
PoetryI don't know how many people do read poetry but I'm going to give it a shot and post some of the poems I wrote. They're not that good since I actually like writing stories over poems but still what could could go wrong, right? :)) Anyway I hope you...
