Whispered promises, broken dreams,
Little games, wounding reams,
Trailing behind with footsteps out of rhyme,
Twirling hair, lost deep in mind’s climb.
Unspoken thoughts like daggers take their toll,
Clutching the mind, carving into the soul.
That ache of being left behind—I know it well,
A silent storm where lonely feelings dwell.
The devil knows my name, myself I softly curse,
My pillow holds my dreams—both gift and curse.
The mirror shows the flaws I try to hide,
My heart still feels the storm I keep inside.
The world sees calm, a nonchalant shell,
But I hold storms too vast to tell.
I overthink, I care, I fall apart—
I know too well a fragile heart.
I wish, I do, to change myself,
It’s hard, but normally I manage,
To mask this void; this eternal dark abyss,
Dark chasm of these unilluminated thoughts.
I wish, I wish, to…
I wish.