The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

I don't know to
what am I scared of,
Is it on the pain after
this last cry,
or on the no-more 'hello'
after this 'goodbye'?

i'm lost,
not on a place,
but on the words
you used to say.