I'm becoming quite skilled
At breaking my own heart
Because my mind is the master
Of this ever so useful art
It comes up with dreams
That I won't be able to achieve
Or simple thoughts of hope
That I just can't believe
Things I'll never accomplish
Or places I'll never go
And this feeling of happiness
That I'll probably never know
I want it all to change
I want to be free
But who can let go of this darkness
So easily?
YOU ARE READING
Silently Screaming
PoetryWe are the masters of the unsaid words, but the slaves of those we let slip.
