There's something different
In being swallowed in sadness
I watched her move
While being a non-corporeal subject
Watching her be alive but not living
With furrowed eyebrows,
Cold eyes, pursed lips
In a twisted sad expression
She moved, as the siren rang
But not really there
It's different
The hollowness of her heart
That could echo the sounds around her
She was painfully aware of her solemnness
Of the scars that haunt her reflection
But ignorance is bliss
She ignored it
Because who would listen anyway?
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Hopeless Poet
PoetryI write about the world. Her, him, the places of meaning, aggression, compassion, or human nature. TRIGGER WARNING !! some poems talk about s*elf harm and su*cide. Please do not read if you are sensitive to such topics. I will try to put a trigger...
