My whole life I was told my eyes were dark,
Like the nighttime sky with a firework spark.
Like the deep, cool rolling of the sandy ocean floor,
Like the sleek, ripe wine that slithers by the pour.
But what many don’t know is what these eyes see at night,
When the air gets cold and I turn off the light.
Because I see all the sadness that lingers through the air,
And I am pelted by this feeling where it’s impossible to bare.
Every moonlight is a cry for a rope,
Laced against my roof with its screams of lost hope.
Maybe I’m crazy or it’s all in my head,
Or maybe nobody will care until someone is dead.
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Author:
elmiina (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: February 24th, 2019 11:28
- Comment from author about the poem: just something simple i thought of when i was feeling down
- Category: Sad
- Views: 15
Offline)
Comments1
Simple you say but its very good.
I like the thoughts it brought to me of your dark eyes seeing through the night.
The menace of a moonlit lynching.
Crazy? We'll see.
thank you!
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