No ratings.
The first poem is about self-reflection, the second is about a hollow feeling. |
True Mouths Bring Magic If my devil was born, it was in a moment of time, Stuck between the sweaty sheets and falsely divine. I’ve wrapped around the feeling of being left behind, Embraced the somber, fruitless question: “Who am I?” As the Sun shines wings into angels, I’ve been rooted in a nightless sky, With no sleep to calm the senses, ascension burns into my eyes. Languish Every day, I’ve wished the wind brought loving words, And when the moon is up, I’m underneath a weightful hurt. I see around the mirrored lens you call your soul, And I’m disgusted with the way you sell a life to be low. You can eat it and never believe it, Idolize it without knowing the face of bereavement. The model that became your choice in the circuit, Wash it off before you sleep and you’ll never regret it. To realize this spine-breaking dirge, Takes more than some eyeshadow and sorrowful rote. Living through a filter with wanton disregard, Read it ’til your eyes are bleeding, yet you still can’t hit the notes. Our minds are our ghosts, You can’t fake the words your spirit wrote, You can’t fake the lines between your toes, You can’t build your life inside a role. |