Curled away.
Hiding away from the world.
Hiding from myself.
People come and go.
Their shadows caste upon my pale shell.
Dimming the shallow light further.
A dark curtain that falls
as everyone pass by.
Making it hard to see.
Making it hard to breathe.
Fear rippling away my senses,
Crawling through my spine,
Gripping my insides,
Claiming it's place in me,
With me.
For how long?
How long will someone last?
When the only companions you have
are the voices in your head.
Blocking out any traces of reality.
Numbing the pain
From the oldest of scars.
That still bleeds to this day.
The toxicity blends in well
With the sensitive.
Almost like acid on a wound-cut-open.
Mercilessly, over and over again.
Its nearly impossible to stop.
To stop craving the feeling
When it makes you feel alive,
When it makes you feel almost human.
It calls me home.
It resides in me.
It have, for so long.
Its difficult to differentiate the two.
Maybe I didn't want it to stop?
Maybe that's the prize
For craving the consequences
For sabotaging my only shot at redemption.
~si
******
I mean I know not many people read this and whoever does, I love y'all. Oh and I'm on a serious writer's block so I rarely write anything worthwhile. And know that these are pieces from when I started poetry and I'm well aware that these might be short, but at least they're mine.
All the love. XX
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PoetryM O N A C H O P S I S the persistent feeling that you're out of place or don't belong. A collection of poems.
