Why do I feel this way?
Why do I look like this?
Why do I behave a certain way?
Why do I cry when I'm upset?
Why...
No one knows,
Not even myself,
I sit in a puddle of tears,
Wondering who I am,
Or what I have become,
Always sitting in silence,
Waiting for someone to define me,
But no one can,
Because I'm unknown.
The only thing that is noticeable,
Is my demon inside,
Who causes pain,
Suffering and despondent things,
Wanting everyone else to feel it,
This aweful feeling,
Of taking pleasure,
From untainted children,
To steal their joy,
And turn them into sinners.
Like myself,
But it tears my soul apart,
Devouring it,
Every time I ruin my victims,
A piece of mine is destroyed as well,
A nonstop cycle,
Of pain and grief,
Until my last breathe.
YOU ARE READING
What and Who am I?
PoetryPoems, mostly free verse, describing the unknown and brief tragedies that happens to go on in the author's mind.
