I feel empty and dead. I can't get out of bed. There's an ache in my head and I can feel the colour red.
The clouds are whirling, curtains in the sky. I'm cut off from my stars and left to wonder why. I'm still alive. Alive. Alive. Because I just heard the clock strike five.
So much violence I cannot tolerate. Should I hope or give up?; the constant internal debate. I bite my tongue hard and I taste red. It shouts and shouts that I'm not dead.
Glass shatters into a million pieces.
My hopes for the future wobbles and decreases.
They care about their wealth and authority
Which is simply selfish. Such a pity.
I see a million reflections glaring at me.
Bruised, angry faces aren't exactly lovely to see.
YOU ARE READING
Turquoise Emotions
PoetryI am trying to cope with my chaotic, hectic self. These are my late-night thoughts.
