Happy,
What is happy?
Is it the same as guilty?
Is it a thing anyone can see?
Or is it just a thing that needs pity?
All I know,
is a feeling of hollow
I get lost in the feelings of sorrow
is there any way that I can escape and go?
I am drowning,
it's the only word I'm feeling
I can't feel another thing
I keep on falling
and the world is always turning
and my soul is dying
I keep on saying
that it's the only state of thinking
but the voice says that I am no worth of saving
So, how can I be normal when my soul is in a knot—hanging?
YOU ARE READING
Dusty Ink.
PoetryThis is where my soul hides. It is a book full of words that combines into an art. My only runaway mess of reality. It is a pack of love, heartbreak, and the dark side of me put into one. So, here I scream my thoughts, will you feel my scars?
