The mirror shows a ghost I barely know,
A painted smile, a story bought and sold.
These photographs, a mockery they seem,
A fabricated life, a broken dream.
From shattered pieces, I was born this way,
A fragile vessel, destined to decay.
The hands that should have shielded, turned away,
Each adult echo, in the disarray.
They wear the same mask, indifferent and cold,
A legacy of pain, a story to be told.
A silent wish, a whisper in the night,
That fading out might set the future right.
The final curtain, a peaceful, sweet release,
From constant torment, finally inner peace.
Disappearing holds no fear, no sting,
Just quiet solace, that oblivion will bring.
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Author:
haleyalexis (
Offline) - Published: March 14th, 2025 18:51
- Category: Sad
- Views: 11
- Users favorite of this poem: Poetic Licence
Offline)
Comments3
Nicely written.
beautiful
A sad but beautifully written write, very well expressed
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