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David Feb 2021
Drifting and silent.
Into an abyss.
Understanding,
But not speaking.
Knowing,
But not answering.
Overpowering talent,
With no action.
Seeking purpose somewhere.
Being pushed into the future,
No feeling of freedom.
Everyone around is predictable but I act clueless.
I can tell when they lie but I act foolish.
Potential, hidden and rejected.
Looking at it, but it never reflected.
A mirror with no reflection is what I kept hidden.
Something so rare, nothing could compare.
This different way of thinking was dangerous.
I questioned many things, and my questions damaged rings.
I questioned life, I questioned what was above, I questioned about love.
My questions were unanswerable sometimes.
Some of them, I did want the answer.
Some of them, I already knew the answer.
And others didn't want to be answered.
I wonder how it felt to be asked these questions.
Maybe I was coming off as rude.
For others, it was probably viewed as an attitude.
So for my own sake, I kept my lips glued.
Silent, once again.
Maybe another time I could ask questions until the end.
David Feb 2021
I arrive back at my cave, after a long day in prison.
The stress is pushing me like a piston.
My head is fuzzy.
I’ve been moved into a strange position.
I feel cold air.
The hairs in the back of my neck have risen.
A ghost?
No, it’s a creature.
I see it.
It’s hands are the most bizzare feature.
It’s so cold.
I’m face to face with the grim reaper.
I look at it, I feel as if I’m being ****** in.
I push it away and it grabs my arm.
My head rings, loud like a fire alarm.
The hands let go, sharp stinging pain.
The creature disappears and it begins to rain.
I can’t feel my heartbeat anymore.
I relax as I lay on the floor.
I fade into a trance.
Tomorrow is a new day.
My arm is sore.
Hopefully one day I can wish for more.
A poem about one of the first times I started cutting

— The End —