If poetry wasn't meant to be felt then why does every word hit your chest as if you re-lived a certain moment?
If poetry wasn't made to be relatable then why does every line feel so close as if you wrote the piece yourself?
We've all been there an...
There's a full ache in my empty chest, Feeling my body fall heavy as I internally crumble. And emotion sit on the brink of my lashes; I don't dare reveal a single dent on my metal exterior. Soreness leaks from my heart attempting to spill from my eyes— desperate for release But I can't. Is it my pride simply forbidding such a thing Or the fact that I poured them all before? How can I be feeling everything so deeply so much so that it's uncomfortable and agonising, But I also don't feel a thing.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
