I hide behind a glass
So clear, so clean
And yet I hope to never be seen
I hide from memories
I dare not to touch
Or to bring with me
Because when I do
Fear looks me in glassy eyes,
Shreds my plump heart,
She parts her rotted lips
And whispers,
"You've grown up."
She shoves to me, a clock
That ticks, ticks so loud
My ears bleed
I don't shout
I don't cry
But I watch as precious days leave
Why feel so old,
When you are so young?
Why must everything be timed?
Why must good things have to go?
Why must I cry
To my old favorite song?
Why must my favorite memories
Turn my face so cold?
Tell me,
Why do I cry for what I can no longer have?
YOU ARE READING
Lunchbox
PoetryLunchbox, a collection of poetry. (!!!May contain sensitive topics!!!) I really like to express myself through poetry, it's a good way to cope and I enjoy doing it in my spare time, even if I'm not very good at it. These may seem a little too em...
