The tears got dried
Not on my cheeks
Not on my pillow
But in my eyes, empty gland, empty being
The eyes got sore
They blamed not my sleeplessness
They blamed not past
But my mind, and the demons
The demons never got tired
They fed not on my thoughts
They fed not on my insecurities
But my fear, fear of death
The death smirks, an evil one
It got off, not on my fears
It got off, not on my sickness
But by my pain, a pain you feel but can't point out.
YOU ARE READING
A sneak peek
PoetryWhat do you think an introvert's diary consists of? If you are an introvert and loves poetry, Go ahead💚 A sneak peek into introvert's diary. I lay in here, a mess I made out of poetry that held y(our) memories. All are my original work. Do give cr...
