Your eyes
are locked doors in a burning house,
still standing—
but everything inside is ash.
No one hears the screams anymore.
They flicker like dying lanterns,
casting truth across the walls.
A glance becomes a funeral.
You look away—
and the whole world forgets to breathe.
Jul 22, 2025
Jul 22, 2025 at 5:15 PM UTC
Your eyes
are locked doors in a burning house,
still standing—
but everything inside is ash.
No one hears the screams anymore.
They flicker like dying lanterns,
casting truth across the walls.
A glance becomes a funeral.
You look away—
and the whole world forgets to breathe.
Original piece 🤍
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| drk.poet_ |
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