Instead of raking my nails across
My skin
To bleed
To feel pain
I bleed through my words
On paper
Such description for the
Emptiness I feel
Inside
I feel hollowed out
Not quite sad
Not quite happy
Just merely
Existing
The wind through my hair doesn't feel
Quite the same
The sun on my face doesn't feel as warm
My smile is even different
Stitched together
Lips turned up
"You are happy"
"You are happy"
"You are happy"
A facade of string hugging my face
Pulling at my heart
I can't get the words out
"I'm not happy!"
But
I'm not quite sad
Not a feeling of bottomless dread
But somewhere in the middle
Somehow I think this is worse
Tricked into thinking I'm fine
Lying to myself when I'm not
I wish the passenger pigeon could deliver my message
Take my letter and pass it around
If I could read it out loud I would
I'm not living but I'm not dying either
I'm somewhere in the middle
And I'm not sure which is worse
YOU ARE READING
Russian Roulette ||poetry||
PoetryI'm feeling like this is just gonna be a shit post of poetry😅cause I need somewhere to store it all. The theme of this book is very inconsistent, so you know Russian Roulette...🤷
