In my bones there is a dull rot
A drag on grey sands
Every movement feels alive
But turn my heart inside out
The pain nestles in there
Fine in its home
And I wish it would all crumble
I am falling but the ground refuses to move
I am crying but no tears will ever fall
I am breaking but the pressure stays
I am tired and I am tired and I am tired
I wait for a pause that comes and goes
I crave for colour, something to dance on the walls
But bloodshed never happens for a reason
The world is always too quiet
When I scream to loud
An echo of substance
Is not a mirror in the water
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The Ghost of an Echo: A Mad Collection of Mad Poet Poetry
PoetryAn absolutely MAD Collection of Poetry by yours truly. Spiral into outer space and ride rollercoasters of mayhem and wonder. Anxiety is real. It's time we talk about it. New poems every week! #1 in whimsy #4 in fantastical
