My smile is a collapsed lung of fake-ness
that I breath harder every lingering moment
of my existence. Mutilating my cogitation
seeing the world in blurs of repetition.
I'm awoken by the pain of visualizations that
will not heed my alone time. But follow me
to that place that should be of silence. Instead
I scream in disillusion, as darkness was my escape.
There words are like raindrops of acid, and my
forest of thoughts wither upon the constant
onslaught of their needing to belittle me in the
presence of others. My branches fall frail to my side.
Others in shame, not a word spoken. No breeze to
hinder the hurricane of illusions that repeatedly
impact on my subconscious place. I'm silent like
a tomb of sorrows, I bury myself inward and deep.
I made my first mistake today, as they like a well
oiled clock, blood hound hunters of my scent find me.
In a moment I heed to my anger and clench my fist,
and then I'm blooded on the floor by there disbelief.
What is life? a moment of breathes that heed in our
existence. Is that what this is called? I collect tears in
threads of and bind them. This is my tears of pain
that I now hang from, pity me now as I only hear silence.
Aug 26, 2016
Aug 26, 2016 at 5:46 AM UTC
My smile is a collapsed lung of fake-ness
that I breath harder every lingering moment
of my existence. Mutilating my cogitation
seeing the world in blurs of repetition.
I'm awoken by the pain of visualizations that
will not heed my alone time. But follow me
to that place that should be of silence. Instead
I scream in disillusion, as darkness was my escape.
There words are like raindrops of acid, and my
forest of thoughts wither upon the constant
onslaught of their needing to belittle me in the
presence of others. My branches fall frail to my side.
Others in shame, not a word spoken. No breeze to
hinder the hurricane of illusions that repeatedly
impact on my subconscious place. I'm silent like
a tomb of sorrows, I bury myself inward and deep.
I made my first mistake today, as they like a well
oiled clock, blood hound hunters of my scent find me.
In a moment I heed to my anger and clench my fist,
and then I'm blooded on the floor by there disbelief.
What is life? a moment of breathes that heed in our
existence. Is that what this is called? I collect tears in
threads of and bind them. This is my tears of pain
that I now hang from, pity me now as I only hear silence.
