What I am is a lie
nothing but illusion
I shouldn't be
still I am
in this field
of fogs.
Existential guilt
I'm sorry
if I waste time
and skin
of a rotten body
among shadows.
A touch of reality
but it's so distant
it makes me sick
it's not a part of me,
I'm a witness
but have no power.
A passive life
no different from death,
just a waste
just a mistake,
I feel nothing
I am not.
(November 2021)
YOU ARE READING
Abisso
Poetry"Sinking in the ocean of tears and sorrow" The soul, a painting of shades and emotions, fleeting and evanescent. So complex understanding every fragmented side of it, and like autumn leaves, who we are, slowly vanishes away. The only memory left of...
