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Alone
March 23, 2016
Alone.
My heart’s
a flood.
My eyes-
two droughts.
My mind
is screaming.
But
My lips
Can’t make.
The.
Proper sounds.
Come.
Out.
Alone.
My tongue
weaves riddles
of little black truths
made blacker
with lies,
And little white lies
Made whiter
with truths
While
My hands
bleed
With the colorful grey ink
of my mind
Leaving
My ears
deaf
to life’s harsh lullaby.
Alone.
As my
Often called
Beautiful
Piano-fingered
hands
With their
jagged
nails
reach out
into the darkness
To grab my own.
Alone.
© Anonymous
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