I was red for so long
I turned black
No anger
Just empty
I thought I was intact
But it turns out
I'm cracked
I still wrote you letters
Filled with words of truthful red.
I spent months lying in my bed
Trying to push you out of my head.
You changed me and therefore will always be apart of me.
I'm unsure how to accept
The living of someone
Who is dead to me
Your ghost is present, no one knows your dead
I'm the only one who can see
Bones from your toes to your head
I don't know how to forgive myself
For all I allowed to happen to me.
I knew better, or so I thought.
How do you know when you've been taught?
I fear the same happening
So badly that I can't allow myself to even trust my own mind.
Humans are masters of decipition.
How do you tell the soul from the souless? How do you tell the color of its wings if we all see things differently? If they are red to me how can they possibly be so white for you?
YOU ARE READING
Expressions
PoetryJust little thoughts, phrases, and word vomit that I had to put somewhere. Maybe someone will relate, maybe not. I don't know if you call this poetry, I call it emotion.
