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Poem

I do not know of the divine.
I do not know of this Earth.
I am floating inside a mind,
of someone who has drowned in thirst.

Somewhere in the middle,
or some place far from either,
I know not my place,
I just wish it’s never ether.

I kind of just accepted my eyes can never see,
they often blind much more than speak.
For heaven never lays inside her eyes,
I plead, peer through and have a peek.

No longer know just why I speak,
my readers far and I’m on a peak.
Silence sharp and slowly kills,
I sit sometimes and write to feel.

Can’t tell you if I’m really real,
for I let too many people near.
Most of them I’ve grown to fear,
who is heartless and whose heart is made of steel?

My eyes too tired so I close them shut,
I no longer can watch them lie, it hurts.
Cuts from the sharpest blade,
and I was made, to be the realest one can be,
but me, I struggle and dream to flee.

For I heard words of love, but saw none.
It’s okay everybody, just have fun.
People use you and and then they run,
and I am only human, so I pour one.

Some think they can steal a heart,
then depart, leave you scarred,
come to make it hard once you restart,
but lying is all, but a form of art.

Time is poison when the room is dark,
and those who serve it, truly are.
I’ve been waiting, drinking here afar,
oh well, I can’t kno

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