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Rated: E · Poetry · Tragedy · #1331051
Where to find yourself when you feel you've dissappeared.
White Halls

I can’t calculate the problem.
I can’t decipher these lies.
You can’t possibly understand this emptiness inside.
Am I transparent? Am I painted white, colorless and blank?
Is the ink of my thoughts invisible paint?

Walking is a blur down these white halls.
I tread on blank emotions- is this the end of all I know?
Why can’t I let me go?
I see reflected my past in every stain, every face of my shame.
They call out my name. Their voices are hollow.
Am I just an echo?

I roam the empty maze in me, I wander my insanity
where endless thoughts never form,
but hover like a vapor-
waiting for the soul to hear all they have to offer.

Walking is a blur down these white halls.
I tread on blank emotions- is this the end of all I know?
Why can’t I let me go?
Tears that line my path liquefy my being.
They outline my imperfection, and leave me weeping in the cold.
This agony is tattooed on my soul.

Can this insanity live inside me,
where in darkness in grows
like a black petal rose, whose beauty no one knows?
Can my perfect anguish color these walls?
Could I escape from here if I found myself?
Will I be the one to save me from these white halls?

FADE AWAY
FADE TO BLACK
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