In the silent wreckage of who I was,
I sift through remnants, cold and gray.
A crown of ash, a throne of dust,
Once solid truths now slip away.
Chasing shadows that dance and flee,
Like Ghosts that mock my every stride.
Fragments of me, sharp and unclear,
Their whispers echo - Truth denied!
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Author:
The Inner Lens (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 22nd, 2025 09:04
- Comment from author about the poem: I have stood in that bathroom, staring into the mirror and seeing a stranger reflected back at me. I have felt the exhaustion etched into my features and the hollow stare that betrayed the toll of years of manipulation and quiet erosion. I have grappled with the doubt that seeped into every corner of my mind, placed there through questioning and half-truths woven with precision. I have watched as the vibrant hues of my individuality faded, replaced by the monochrome compliance demanded by someone else's mold. And in that moment, I have whispered, "Who am I?"—a question that has lingered unanswered, yet has marked the beginning of my journey back to self-discovery.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 20
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Poetic Licence, MR.apocalypse
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Comments3
Good one , felt what the poem is trying to express
So nicely worded with great images ( a crown of ash, a thrown of dust) very nice. A lovely poem a fave
How many people will relate to this, when they look in the mirror and wonder where the person they used to be has gone,lovely write, enjoyed the read
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