Reluctant sadness
was hidden in the essence of my skin
I am dressed in black
for the walking mysterious, feaful,
recurring death I have become.
No one can see my tears
or feel my soul;
they just walk on my fractured heart
that has become a broken glass
unswept in my coffin of thoughts.
I can barely breathe
when all I inhale is toxic cosmic
my vision is blurred with lines
of obscurity and anxiety.
I am down to feeling sappy,
happiness is fake smiles in daylight
and wet pillow at night
fiction truths arouse in my dark room
as I depict a dark twisted fantasy.
My soul is darkened
as my spirit reminisced over my dark ages
when I was a soulless temple
with no cups running over me
no spiritual reflection,
no mental redemption
just a broken sculpture
who can barely breathe.