Stainless steel cavalier, deepens the stresses and scratches tingling the surface stretching tighter. Pierced, sinking an avalanche of sharpness liquid seeps from the bottom of my heart. I graze my arm of art, poetry of pain, stains scars across my soft smile, though the permanence of suicide I promise to take no part.
~ H a y t h a m
T r u e h e a r t
About the Creator
Haytham Trueheart
Alevi. Poet.
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More stories from Haytham Trueheart and writers in Poets and other communities.
Offically Alone
Officially alone; anxiety traps me inside myself. I'm a writer who writes stories and yet I’m without a story. I'm resistant to opening the loudness of my speechlessness, these naked pages reject me as my head is stuck in a vortex of unhealed behaviours. My soul appears to be held captive, suffering in the pit of my ego, born and made to suffer. Perhaps the afterlife thought to return and repeat a life again through the human instrument. I don't believe in god nor do I kneel for a cross, so do not sing your hymns when I'm gone.
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By Annie Kapur7 days ago in Geeks
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