Day Eight: I Wish Not To Feel

wrapped around the self
a stone around the neck
and it was sorrow.
that stillness
in the loud
forgetting crowds
weary rest, heart removed
from the tempting,
empathy of soft
eyes
sorrow, sorrow,
the knife digs deep

sorrow sleeps timidly
feelings torn asunder
left behind
begging, please.
fists clenched
storm of fire and ice
within the dying soul
life is a poised knife
balanced until
the heart is rendered
open

the rivulets
stream down in anger
sorrow, sorrow, wake.
the knife digs deep
in agony, in desperation
there is nothing here
but the silent
tick, tock, tick, tock
fading.
fists clenched
wrapped around the self.

***

Was supposed to be depressive but I’m not sure how well I succeeded….

~Tally

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