The unbearableness of it all
Constantly waiting for the sword to fall
It hangs so swiftly above my head
Filling me with mortal dread
Encased in solitude
Ensnared in the abuse
After the storm comes complete stillness
He remains ever guiltless
It is his sickness
Once believed to be brilliance
Quickly realized as distance
Combined with the shrillness
Innocent eyes witnessed
The death of their own innocence.
ESTÁS LEYENDO
Idiosyncrasies of an Introvert
Poesía{COMPLETE} Poetry from the ill mind ❝Her heart is played like well worn strings In her eyes the sadness sings Of one who was destined for better things.❞ © Lang Leav
