The walls lean in like they’re listening
Paint’s peeling, tired like me
Even the floor knows my footsteps
Knows where I try not to be
The lamps cast a glow to say we hear
The lightbulb is cracked, broken with lies
The pillows cry along with me
My mirrors fog themselves up with heavy sighs
The clock watches as I don’t get out of bed
My drawers are splintering, worn out as well
The window knows my sorrow
Reflects my tears and knows I’m a shell
The bed creaks, giving me a hug
My blanket is fraying from years of use
My clothes knew about running away
Once I had blown a fuse
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Author:
Cheesencrackers (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: May 16th, 2026 12:58
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 4
- Users favorite of this poem: Friendship
Offline)
Comments2
Emotions portrayed as surrounding objects in this poem of depression. It is dark and lacking energy. Well done
nicely done
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