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Jul 2018
I clash into my fabric,
Like it's the waters of a bath.
Behold the ripples from my fingers,
Before I walked upon their path.
Pills are skipping stones,
That land at unsteady feet.
I'm falling, or I'm drowning,
Sleeping with torture underneath.
With Carnations at the bedside,
The yellow won't change my hue.
For their inexplicit meanings,
Are wrapped in dripping blue.
And the taps rung through my head,
Were the bath; now forming puddles.
You asked how I had left,
But you didn't notice the bubbles
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This poem is about how people don't notice when others are hurt. They could feel like they're drowning, struggling to breathe, even if they're in bed, doing nothing.
(Btw yallow carnations symbolize disappointment; rejection, just if it's confusing)
All feedback is welcome and appreciated!!:):)
©2018
Carson Alexander Defelice
Written by
Carson Alexander Defelice  16/M/FL
(16/M/FL)   
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