Not Cool, Not Calm, Not Collected
The buzzing;
The knocking.
Zero silence upon this bed.
Routine, it should bring silence.
But the shrieks from inside me makes yells.
Loud yells;
Without the screams within this head.
On the surface calm.
And on the surface, alive.
Yet the war inside my head consistently puts the tranquil on the sidelines.
Copyright © Christina Rose | Year Posted 2015
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment