They warn me of this
Warn me of that
Over and over again
They think repetition
Is the only way to impact me
But I notice their words
I heed them
And every time I hear them
They're carved deeper in my perception
So my paranoia grows
Constant and intense
Surrounding me
Each thing I do wrapped in it like a cruel gift
And now while life threatens my happiness
Death is an old friend
I'm willing to give in to him
-
Author:
ElenaGrace (
Offline) - Published: July 2nd, 2017 14:38
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 40
Offline)
Comments1
Outback is right. "They" are not important. Listen to the voice inside instead.
Very well written. I don't know if you write about yourself or somebody else, but it sounds like a cry for help.
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.