the days get older,
the luminescence longer,
I am scared,
to watch this light,
that makes me blind.
And It gets me nervous when,
I know I can get shattered.
Feeling of agony,
search for harmony,
My soul can see the right,
It channelizes my mind-
to make everything matter.
There is a very thin line,
cuticlatious and plasmic,
not sparse and fragile,
thwarts my escape from light!
My ivy shadow stoops,
the throes of its clasp,
run through my trunk-
I am pale and discomfited.
Cold waste of years,
As everyday gets dull and grey,
I want to go to the other side,
to feel better.
The Darkness is void,
and it equilibrates my mind.
taking in the no element,
I asphyxiate,
from the detainment and-
turn into bloodless carcass.
In the world of the dead,
there is no broken asunder.
2 comments:
your poem is nice but depressing. if you're feeling down, just try to get away from everything for a few days. go somewhere where no one knows you and maybe spend a day doing something completely different. your poem sounds slightly suicidal. i work on weekends and spare time at a suicide hotline. it is never the answer. nothing is as bad as it seems. try to keep perspective. not trying to lecture, but you sound a bit blue and you should know we've all been there and all problems can be overcome with the right attitude.
cuticlatious ?
Enlighten me please.
Post a Comment