Question the existence of everything,
I wish I would've known the answers to.
I found myself weaving stories of,
The part of me that often stumbles.
The sirens in my head just get louder,
People around with all their queries,
I am stuck with a notion of being perfect,
And perhaps the part of me which isn't.
The connection to the soul is loosening,
The thread of the fate is messed up already,
The wall around me is just raising higher,
And a part of me hates this already.
I wish to turn the pages so desperately,
But someone doesn't want me to,
The book seemed to have made a decision,
And a part of me is the tacky villain.
Poetry spinning around the truth,
Weaving lies in those sentences,
Just to make believe of these lies,
A part of me that's becoming too heavy.
A part of me is hating the present,
A part of me resenting the past,
Regretting the choices I have made,
A part of me knows they won't last.
YOU ARE READING
Our Violet Walls
PoetryBook #1 in the 'Coloured After Party' Poetry Series. 'Coloured After Party' is my second poetry series after my debut one known as 'If Only Happiness...' When everyone leaves, the night gets lonely with every passing minute. Keeping us in dilemma of...
