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If emotions were the weather
Mine would be a typhoon
The lashing winds of anxiety assail the walls of stability
Piece by piece the foundation erodes into a smoother yet more hollow version of itself
The swirling somber clouds of depression linger above head.
Under their burdensome weight
they collapse in on themselves
and torrent
They barrage all below, destroying
the walls reduced by the wind is no more
The foundation is perforated by imperfection
The collective drops of thoughts linger
They aggregate and pool
creating tides and floods.
covering all in sight and
gradually drowns
all of life
The city of self, initially weak
Is now decrepit
Its foundation destroyed by wind and rain
It waits peacefully for collapse
Not from an external
But from its own weight
And then there was nothing
YOU ARE READING
The Peaceful End
PoetryA deep, dark journey into my mind You shall find wonder and depth And hopefully be moved This is my heart Laid bare Critisism and advice are welcome and appreciated
