Baren walls
Unclean ceilings
Tattered carpet.
This room sits a boy.
Eyes red and glossy,
Chest emptied.
A smile stained on his face along
With the heaviness of tears.
His eye brands a purple marking
Of love.
His head overfilled and bursting
At the seems of his reality.
This boy, his mouth
Cealed shut by anxiety and depression.
His ears can hear through the hollow walls
His mother cursing and crying about
How she's burdened with him
And everything else.
This boy was so quiet,
And so distant.
He heard his mother and step father
leave and return. They've forgotten.
Like everyone else.
He...alone.
Polishes off any other edible. And sinks
This is where he is happy.
आप पढ़ रहे हैं
Loud Pøetry Spilled From The Quiet Soul
कविताAll of these are mine. Not the Internet. Trigger warning. (Self mutilation, depression, anorexia, etc....) And my apologies if they aren't even slow to Bukowski or Anything....I just wanted to try
