My walls are so high,
And my words to the world are lie,
My face is a mask,
One that hides my past and my scars,
I've made boundaries that are impenetrable,
Long and tall like that of China.
Flames can not cut through,
The bricks that hold me true,
I've built it,
A 10 mile wall,
That from the other side I call.
My vile thoughts,
My prominent fears,
My incessant scare,
They are what I write in my diary,
They throw me in an endless pit,
At least something to keep me at bay.
But my walls are so high,
And my words to the world are a lie,
My face is a mask,
One that I've tried so hard to keep it on.
Breaking inside,
I can't go on,
Not when what I had is gone,
The clouds are grey,
My wrist is red,
My soul is tainted and already dead.
Nothing is wrong,
But nothing is right either,
I want a razor to my wrist,
Maybe when I cut it'd be an outlet,
That of my pain and torments,
Let my misery flow like the blood.
No one to notice and no one to care,
There's simply no one there,
That's why I have built my wall so high,
It's not coming down,
Because if it does,
No one will care,
They'll only inquire.
Kg_asare🎈
YOU ARE READING
PsychoDrama and Terrors🥀
PoesíaI'm talking to myself and I hope I'm listening, I'm juggling the inside and outside heavy, I'm keeping it from falling apart, I'm holding it together just by a strand, One day it will rip of from my palm, together with a tear or two but now, let...
