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EmilyNotBrontePoems
With blood cascading constantly, These narrow glim lines under my pale skin, I question, maybe I'm alive. That the raging hammer thumping, The hollow heart in my chest, Means I am simply existing. These soft inhales and exhales, Thick polluted air, It must mean something. Though it could be confusion, Simply too real to be illusion, Definitely not delusion. Maybe I've come to a conclusion. To end my manic mental drive, Maybe I'll live not to survive. I think I am alive.
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Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 7:27 PM UTC
Maybe, I'm Alive.
With blood cascading constantly, These narrow glim lines under my pale skin, I question, maybe I'm alive. That the raging hammer thumping, The hollow heart in my chest, Means I am simply existing. These soft inhales and exhales, Thick polluted air, It must mean something. Though it could be confusion, Simply too real to be illusion, Definitely not delusion. Maybe I've come to a conclusion. To end my manic mental drive, Maybe I'll live not to survive. I think I am alive.
I like this - I thought the second stanza would end better with the word 'existing', thus given the final realisation in the poems' final line more potency. Just a thought anyway -
#numb#existing#epiphany
EmilyNotBronte
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EmilyNotBronte
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 7:27 PM UTC
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