Every time I dare draw out my thoughts in the soft parchmebt below, my mind and fingers slowly die, denying to uphold this tough unknown feelings consuming me like blue fire, slowly licking it's way easily towards my heart, all centered in one goal; get me, kill me, end my happiness and perplex my simple existence.
The tips of my fingers would more than once split open and slowly leak blood, strong rivers of black and red inking my body permanently, reminding me of what I am. A constant brand, brilliant and gleaming against the sun like a diamond people will perceive, strong jewel made of ash so beautiful yet dark inside containing and being valued by it's enormous quantity of discarded and burned thougts riding up and down its perfect body, not daring to come out of their shell for a second, completely unbreakable.
My silence means the sharp secrets are now pinching my throat, struggling to fit all together with the new ones, all determined on coming through, fighting their way to my lungs, trying to get me, to kill me, end my happiness and perplex my simple existence.
My chains, oh the chains I will never forget, made of the tears, the single thing I have held onto, refusing to let go. Refusing to crumble and break, standing high ignoring this pain brutally tugging at my back, when frustrated long cracks threaten to open, threatening to let my blood fall. Let my blood spill and dry, let it stain these parchment below.
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YOU ARE READING
When a mockingbird dies
Poetry[ There will never exist "perfect" as long as the human breathes] { There will never be "unique" as long as society exists and the word "fit in" roams through our tongues} ●There will never be a me as long as others surround my life● There will alw...
