isolation,
the lone tree stands,
I am the tree,
I must be punished for being me.
It's leaves lose colour,
the beautiful green,
black,
brown,
I just want to be seen.
There's a fog,
green,
with flies,
so many flies.
I sit in my room,
looking for the skies.
Too foggy to see,
must I really be punished for being me?
The walls close in with every passing day,
if I could speak, I'd have so much to say.
My mouth is gone,
peeled off,
I hated it, my voice.
The walls are closing in,
I'll let the thoughts win.
They say, my existence is a sin.
Mirror,
Why do you cry with me?
Who are you to cry with me on the hardest night I've ever lived through?
Don't pretend to care,
I cry because you are unloving.
How dare you act like you feel my pain?
I bleed,
because you are undeserving.
The flies,
they are here because of you.
The fog,
it blocks the skies,
because you are undeserving of the light.
If I had the might,
I'd break you,
use your pieces to peel.
The flies,
they crawl under my skin.
I try to not let them win.
You're pathetic,
you're a walking insult,
even that's more that what you deserve.
To become anew,
like a snake shedding it's skin.
They were right,
my existence is a sin.
Everybody reeks a different smell,
woody or pleasant,
floral or foul,
weak or strong.
It's what we are.
They say I smell good,
so why do the flies roam?
Why do they block the sky?
You're undeserving.
If I spray perfume,
or hush them away.
They've found a place to stay,
under my skin,
they've crawled in,
They made it their home,
I peel and peel and peel,
yet the smell won't leave.
Ripping my skin off,
and hope the smell fades.
If I can make like a snake and shed,
I will become anew.
As I bleed and sink into my bed,
I continue to peel,
Peel everything off,
tear my insides out,
more and more until the stench fades,
until I become anew.
All that does is attract more flies.
Eternity,
so tell me,
what do you see?
I am perfect or impure?
A never ending cycle,
of pain so obscure.
Buried alive,
I've sunk into my sheets,
I think of the hourglass,
it holds the sand of time,
time that will soon pass.
Eternity,
an entity,
turn the glass upside down,
restart the cycle.
No more blood,
the scent is gone,
it's black now,
dark,
begone,
wretched flies,
before I leave,
At least now I can see the skies.
Feb 7
Feb 7, 2026 at 4:39 AM UTC
isolation,
the lone tree stands,
I am the tree,
I must be punished for being me.
It's leaves lose colour,
the beautiful green,
black,
brown,
I just want to be seen.
There's a fog,
green,
with flies,
so many flies.
I sit in my room,
looking for the skies.
Too foggy to see,
must I really be punished for being me?
The walls close in with every passing day,
if I could speak, I'd have so much to say.
My mouth is gone,
peeled off,
I hated it, my voice.
The walls are closing in,
I'll let the thoughts win.
They say, my existence is a sin.
Mirror,
Why do you cry with me?
Who are you to cry with me on the hardest night I've ever lived through?
Don't pretend to care,
I cry because you are unloving.
How dare you act like you feel my pain?
I bleed,
because you are undeserving.
The flies,
they are here because of you.
The fog,
it blocks the skies,
because you are undeserving of the light.
If I had the might,
I'd break you,
use your pieces to peel.
The flies,
they crawl under my skin.
I try to not let them win.
You're pathetic,
you're a walking insult,
even that's more that what you deserve.
To become anew,
like a snake shedding it's skin.
They were right,
my existence is a sin.
Everybody reeks a different smell,
woody or pleasant,
floral or foul,
weak or strong.
It's what we are.
They say I smell good,
so why do the flies roam?
Why do they block the sky?
You're undeserving.
If I spray perfume,
or hush them away.
They've found a place to stay,
under my skin,
they've crawled in,
They made it their home,
I peel and peel and peel,
yet the smell won't leave.
Ripping my skin off,
and hope the smell fades.
If I can make like a snake and shed,
I will become anew.
As I bleed and sink into my bed,
I continue to peel,
Peel everything off,
tear my insides out,
more and more until the stench fades,
until I become anew.
All that does is attract more flies.
Eternity,
so tell me,
what do you see?
I am perfect or impure?
A never ending cycle,
of pain so obscure.
Buried alive,
I've sunk into my sheets,
I think of the hourglass,
it holds the sand of time,
time that will soon pass.
Eternity,
an entity,
turn the glass upside down,
restart the cycle.
No more blood,
the scent is gone,
it's black now,
dark,
begone,
wretched flies,
before I leave,
At least now I can see the skies.
This is in my opinion my best one. It's also my longest poem. Again I really appreciate every opinion any of you have about it. Every comment, every like and every opinion in general. I took some inspiration from some writers on here, I forgot their names though. If they see this, credit to you:)
