This world that I live in,
Is making me something that I'm not.
Something quiet, sad, lonely, and deeply depressed.
~~
I feel as if I have some kind of disease,
That makes people dought my actions,
My words,
And my very living existance.
~~
It's as if being in a dark room all alone.
Or in the shadows of a park.
Sitting on a swing, while not even moving.
And the swing next to me has no living soul.
No soul to dare be near me.
~~
All you can hear is the silent whispering of winds.
To me,
It's just like Hell.
But no fire,
No screams.
No scream of a demented soul,
Lost in the underworld.
~~
Yet, I can hear something.
I can hear my weeping sorrow.
My tears crashing,
To my hands resting in my lap.
~~
Do you know what it's like to be alone?
~~
~Summer Miller
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Poetry: Her Mind Revealed
PoetryThis is a series of Dark and Romantic poems I've written throughout the years.