The closed doors are eating me up
The cedar woods are splitting up
The closed doors are shutting days in
My cold eyes are glaring from within
When sadness catches you tenfold
You are secluded, uneasy, even in your own mold
You think of things that could hurt you, kill you
Those laces would fit perfectly, but not in your shoes
Sometimes days are irrelevant
I am sad, I will be sad, was I?
Sometimes thoughts are irrelevant
I don't care, they won't care, who cares?
Maybe a slit or two would make it better
Maybe a knot or two would make it clearer
Maybe a pill or a dozen more would make me see
A life far from this failing reality
YOU ARE READING
Trinkets
PoetryIf you want to read without the commitment, this is the perfect book for you. You can open it and read a few excerpts once in a while, or you can read it in one go. The entries here have various themes which may confuse readers as it confused the wr...
