Every day is always the same
begging to cry, not a tear to be found
aching to scream, not a voice to be had
silently writhing in agony
a constant depression settled around
a constant pain taking root beneath
a constant isolation just waiting to implode
all without a release
any passionate feelings locked away
a waterfall of tears to be had, only ever a mist to be found
a symphony of screams to be had, only a whimper to be heard
just an endless stream of emotions clamped off
every day
I get up
I socialize
I pretend
the hole in my chest gets only bigger
an infected pus flows freely from out the wounds
thoughts of death come fondly
nearly always repulsive
the darkness
a well
barely tapped
inescapable
this hell
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem