these words fail
to capture any such real emotions
we talk and we talk, sure
but you can't feel my anger
frustration, my sadness
left to wonder
in a wander
through the maze that is the mind
with pen put to paper
the characters resemble more inkblots than letters
and so
yielding myself to the misery self-induced
that has, as of yet, only ate at the heels
my chrysalis burst
but no winged thing emerge
only pus, bubbling out my pupa
Nov 27, 2020
Nov 27, 2020 at 4:16 PM UTC
these words fail
to capture any such real emotions
we talk and we talk, sure
but you can't feel my anger
frustration, my sadness
left to wonder
in a wander
through the maze that is the mind
with pen put to paper
the characters resemble more inkblots than letters
and so
yielding myself to the misery self-induced
that has, as of yet, only ate at the heels
my chrysalis burst
but no winged thing emerge
only pus, bubbling out my pupa