I don't feel happy,
I don't feel sad either,
I don't feel anything;
Just empty.
Nothing but a mere sack of meat,
And hollow bones,
A blank canvas,
Without personality,
Lost in a repetitive cycle of time passing by,
In a blur,
My eyes unable to make out a single detail,
A spray of black and white images,
I once called life.
My minds image,
A painter pondering,
Holding a black brush,
Away from a vacant shell,
As he decides to make her sad and angry,
All at once,
Her eyes frightened and vulnerable,
But of what the question remains unanswered,
Unless it's just as simple as everything,
And nothing.
And just as complicated.
As life comes back into focus,
I realise that girl was indeed,
Me.
Frustration burning immensely,
Bringing tears to my eyes,
My mind unable to decipher what is real,
And what is fake,
As everything becomes clear,
As I grow transparent,
My existence fading,
Along with my anger and frustration,
As I come to the conclusion;
That my life is meaningless.
And I could not change a thing.
I'm just a waste of space,
A tree with no branches,
A bird without wings,
A fraying string,
A lone picture in the depths of history,
unseen.
Unflinching to the gun pressed against my head,
Eyes wide open as I lay in my bed,
Staring into the darkness,
Where the light should be.
YOU ARE READING
.Hidden in chaos.
Poetry//Poetry// My ears burn from the sound of tangled wires, My translucent eyes reflecting off the glass like wildfires, I desire to close my eyes, And embrace the darkness, the light of which I despise; I'm surrounded by a lifeless shadow. There are m...
