I'm bound by my own doings,
I paint my thoughts with tears and chains,
They grope my neck and clad my wrist,
They are coloured lies,
But a monochrome truth,
I can't tell no one,
Because they truly never care.
In due time when they come off,
I'd be dusty like old humpty,
Duly not free,
And bounded but not stricken.
The paints will dry and so will the tears,
But not the thoughts, they are ever wet,
The terror will never end,
so I'll never stop painting.
These chains hold me to my fears,
They've handed the leash to my demons,
It frights my soul but not my thoughts,
And they press my windpipe so hard,
Or so I presume,
Maybe they are strangling my demons,
In any way I should be grateful,
But these dreams and nightmares,
They keep me company.
When these paints dry,
Maybe I can show it to the world,
But my thoughts are wet, they can never dry,
They are my alla primas but with words,
Maybe I'm Da Vinci's prodigy,
But with a pen,
One that can sketch my thoughts perfectly.
kg_asare_🎈
YOU ARE READING
PsychoDrama and Terrors🥀
PoesieI'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...
