nowadays,
it's only acceptable,
to talk to yourself
if you're facing a camera,
to be heartfelt and confident
within the confines of a page.
to pour yourself into
a complimentary jar,
until you're nothing but a shell,
afraid to speak up,
without our digital masks,
it's time to tear them off
and shout.
YOU ARE READING
n.i.m.b.u.s.
Poetrywords that pour from the veins of the sky. a collection of joyous, soul-crushing melodies, set to the tune of the desert-seaside breeze. //#539 in Poetry [2016.07.10]
