i am at war with myself, and i fear that the pillars holding my mind will crumble leaving me maddened, with no clue as to what to do.
i see myself sinking, and falling in an endless loophole. i feel my skin burn and my eyes melt, and i know that i have died my first death.
i hear whispers from so many voices, all distorted and torn and bent and broken, like me. i feel only one thing, fear and anger.
i can't help myself, everything is happening too fast, i see flashes of my memories, the ones i used to hold dear. they dissipate and vanish slowly, as if melting away.
give me my persona back, give me back my mask, let me shield myself from it all, i am unclothed and in pain, it hurts.
YOU ARE READING
nostalgia.
Poetry❛ we are so obsessed with preserving memories that we forget to make them. ❜ • • • completed.
