Sounds of screeching rhythms sounds inside a dungeon of a mind Am i hallucinating or am i sleeping fine ? Prisoners banging drums , revels to the night Souls flying high completely free of fright But plummeting back down to the safety of your bed Your heart will fall slower than it previously bled Don't pursue your dismal chords Dont fake being happy with a heart that is scorned Do! Commit pen to paper Let your feelings erode the jagged edges of your heart Turn your skin inside out if it means showing who you really are Because who you are on the inside Is a soul that has been trying to try
This poem is called " Tissue Box " because i could NOT find a title for it so i started looking around the room for an idea and i came up staring at a tissue box . True story :) enjoy