I feel darkness rising in me
All around people living happily
Cheerfully, and I'm sick with envy
Eternally lonely clouded in a fog so thick it chokes out all of me, seeping out from the cracks in my psyche
In the end i create the calamities that lead to my mental tragedies.
The irony that causes my own insanity
Always alone but so full of anxiety
I let no one get near me
I think truly without this poetic therapy,
I would be but memory
A thought fading yearly until I'm gone completely
Nothing left but pages of unread poetry
A ghost with no one to care to mourn me.
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Author:
brothervilheim (
Offline) - Published: May 18th, 2021 07:26
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 20
- Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek
Offline)
Comments2
Poetry is your medication and it needs to be written more and more and in time that fog will life and light will come into your life.
Andy
In truth I often feel my poetry is all I have
Thank you for reading and commenting.
dear Poet, you're awesome!
thanks for sharing, your words of wisdom...
'I think truly without this poetic therapy,
I would be but memory'
Thank you for taking the time to read it.
Means a lot to me that people would
Thank you again
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