invisibly dying from the inside out no one is looking into unseen eyes no one can hear a muted voice fading no one is close enough to be near
the deafening thrums echo anxieties’ racing heartbeat within morphing flesh shell , gasping for new breath in a hovering stale silence
from a distance the broken mirror ricochets a subdued light ; much closer the reflection reveals someone I once knew by heart
now an unrecognizable mask enshrouds a terminal emptiness inconspicuous at a fleeting glance , impossible to discern what storms rage from the inside out ,... unnoticed
an uncontained wildfire smoldering within, lies in wait for the imminent winds of change to fan the flames into the final eternal silent ashes
a poet reaches out demurely offering a candid look into the window of the imperfect human soul
there is no poetry met by indifference just gathered unread words scribbled,
squandered time dripped slowly on an empty page ; moments turn into days days turned into years
invisibly dying from the inside out an unfinished life trickles out like seeping blood evanescing from a bottomless puncture wounding ... penetrating the heart, leaching out the slow death of a poet
for poetry is only words unless they touch someone ...
befallen to indifference is poetic death by salted paper cuts ...
a muting suffocation that hiddenly erodes away, silencing the passion of a musing soul one unread word at a time ...
it is an enigma how poetry evolves in meaning over time ― like a self-fulfilled prophecy, some become transformational, some become new beginnings or some become a finality of a metamorphosis of peaceful endings or deleted attempts at understanding the misunderstood...