I feel everything
that isn't there.
I think everything
that isn't true.
I try everything
that isn't me.
And my head and heart
both pound as one:
it's the rhythm
to my daily anthem,
accompanied by my feet
dancing - no,
creating tsunamis of bones
trying to keep still,
with my fingers tingling
a sort of white dust
that create a layer
of pure emptiness
all 'round me,
separating me from
all of reality.
I wish you knew
how scared I am
when you try
to save the me
who isn't here.
Aug 31, 2017
Aug 31, 2017 at 4:28 PM UTC
I feel everything
that isn't there.
I think everything
that isn't true.
I try everything
that isn't me.
And my head and heart
both pound as one:
it's the rhythm
to my daily anthem,
accompanied by my feet
dancing - no,
creating tsunamis of bones
trying to keep still,
with my fingers tingling
a sort of white dust
that create a layer
of pure emptiness
all 'round me,
separating me from
all of reality.
I wish you knew
how scared I am
when you try
to save the me
who isn't here.
© LAICEY Poems August 2017
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