A Self-Reflection
It's a vortex,
Spiralling deeper into pandemonium.
Through cheap jokes and laughter,
I am smiling,
Because it hurts
To know I am living;
Existing in this nauseating silence,
A tightly-sealed mouth
Of secrets that reside
Manifesting itself into an inky blackness.
With outstretched hands,
I reach for the blistering sun,
Anything to consume this numbness.
👁 1💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.