my voice is shattered glass,
stained with roses,
pressed with petals,
hushed in a book,
inked with lies,
and blurred over with incandescent black truths.
my eyes are the rain on a stormy night,
thunder crackling,
fire sizzling to a hum,
the radio stops mid-song,
and hangs in the air,
dead silence is what accompanies me to dinner.
my throat is the desert,
parched and scarce of any liquid,
it seems hard to swallow,
the guilt is a lump,
hands at my throat,
jump the gun.
my mind is a wry mess,
that only smirks at me,
holding the gun at my head,
it tempts me,
but when i cock the gun,
and shoot,
all that comes are roses.
my heart is silent,
yet thundering away,
with fear at a chokehold,
i cannot simply just live peacefully.
- incandescent black truths
YOU ARE READING
growing wings | Completed
Poetry❝my freedom was at the cost of my sanity❞ how far would you go to earn your freedom, if it meant stripping away your happiness and losing your mind. freedom does not mean liberat...
