poetry

No escape

An escape? yes.

But certainly not a forgotten stain.

The events play in my head continuously,

like a so forgotten tape left running alone in an empty cinema hall.

Hollow, empty, with no actual abode,

i cling to the last of the memories hoping they would draw back,

all that was.

Silence, anger, with no measure,

Builds inside me, my body will break,

i tell myself, but these walls that hold me are strong ,

all a lie.

Thoughts,

tend to fire up like a volcano,

in and out of my body like a congested hall,

i cannot escape the stain.

So i allow myself to break, and heal and break till i heal of the pain,

that is all around me.

Thoughts of a million ways that i would have done things,

fight their way inside my mind,

i laugh at some, yes, they make me the happiest in the room.

i certainly can make a new world just as beautiful as I want it to be,

i smile on, and move on, just afew steps then back again,

I need to smile more often.

This, an escape? No.

Delusionment is my favourite sister,

Delusional: adjective. having false or unrealistic beliefs or opinions:

for i love to imagine, and wonder,

there’s certainly no escape for me.

i want to be in the moment as much.

luckily i can keep on with them.

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