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I am looking at someone,
The one
Who has become fearsome
I look at the eyes
Which were once earthly warm,
Now cracked like dead tree's hard
The ears which once
Embraced only words of rare,
Now let in nothing, but cries of despair
The lips which pulled up
Despite the pain's weight,
Now spill the truth, even when others hate.
The arms which game comfort
Even when for granted they were taken,
Now push away those who are broken
Legs never hesitant to walk
more than others,
Now backtrack, widening the gap more than ever.
The broken heart that
Could beat for hundreds of others,
Now asking why to even bother
A soulless dead is what I am looking at
I reach out to put the dead to sleep
But the touch isn't of skin but glass.
Then I know I am looking at a mirror.
YOU ARE READING
Creative Diary
Thơ caA simple poetry book by a girl who believes , the more she sees world the less she desires to live.
