thirty two ✎ waste

21 8 0
                                    

a waste
of tissues soaking
up those tears
that run black

tired
of patching up
my peeling mask
afraid to let
my true colours
through

anxious
that the cloud
that hovers above me
will let all hell
break loose

done
with the stupid
show of joy
and sunshine
I have to put on
everyday

- aj

tainted souls ✎ poetry Where stories live. Discover now