You may hear my screams in the dead of night;
So, just know, I'm not alright.
The sunrises and then it sets;
Repetition does not rest.
I have twenty four hours to fill to the best of my ability;
But I know I'll waste them scrolling through my phone, lonely.
I might pencil down my thoughts on a piece of paper for my eyes to see;
And then I'll crumble it up and forget everything that made me... me.
A fire burning in my chest will force ash to my lungs;
And when your lungs are troubled; you won't have time to run.
I'll ruin relationship like a gut-wrenching plot twist;
Don't blink, you just might miss this.
I'll starve myself like some kind of deserving reward;
Might as well give into all the rumours I've heard.
I'll lose my identity like I never had one to begin with;
Free falling into an almighty; altering crisis.
I'll go to a party and while everyone sings cheers, I'll be on the verge of tears.
Dust falls on my heart like picture frames in my mother's attic;
A heart once loved; now still - a death ensued by panic.
Remnants of happiness dance across the air;
Sad is happy laid bare.
The roses in my mother's garden are dying of thirst;
I could water them with my tears; liquidating dirt.
I believe that hollowness is the space where happiness once called home;
No wonder you can hear echoes in my bones.
I'll ruin relationship like a gut-wrenching plot twist;
Don't blink, you just might miss this.
I'll starve myself like some kind of deserving reward;
Might as well give into all the rumours I've heard.
I'll lose my identity like I never had one to begin with;
Free falling into an almighty; altering crisis.
I'll go to a party and while everyone sings cheers, I'll be on the verge of tears.
I've been laying in bed for days;
With nothing on my mind; I can't even concentrate.
I heard that today was the hottest day of the year;
Maybe I should go out and have sweat cover up my tear.
Or maybe I should focus on healing what's left of my humanity;
I'll bleed until I am no more;
I'll scream until my voice grows sore.
Until I find the 'or' in horror;
I'll search for wonder in wisteria.
I can confidently admit that I am broken;
But I will repair myself with words I have not yet spoken.
You may hear my screams in the dead of night;
But, just know, I'm gonna be alright.
YOU ARE READING
BOHEMIA
PoetryBOHEMIA 🌷🌼 An abstraction of creativity. Deeply rooted in the harrowing aspects of the human condition, my twelfth poetry collection, 'BOHEMIA' is a darker yet stark, poetic exploration of nature versus nurture through a poetry collection ri...
