Twenty-seven

Twenty-seven goose bumps line my arms and legs
but I am stuck here
No need to utter a soft goodbye
because I keep banging my head into apologies
that should never exist in our world

If he had watched over me

You wonder why I lock myself in my room,
trying desperately to listen to the silence
but it doesn't live inside my mind

You wonder why I conceal my work of art,
with baggy sweatshirts and long sleeve-tops
but you never ask
You never ask me how my day was
even when I let you drone on about yours

You never wanna hear about my passions
you just ask me to quiet down
You never wanna listen to my cries
even when the reason for them is fatal

You wonder, but you don't want to know
why I'm starting to let go
why twenty-seven goose bumps line my arms and legs,
but it's almost ninety outside
and in the sunlight I feel a sting

My depression is mine to suffer in





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