Read Poems by Powder Kiramman

  

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Mind

My mind is a wasteland, a place only poison and death thrive. 

My mind is a wasteland, where not even hope is alive.  

I’m not safe from my thoughts, these venomous snakes that haunt my memories. 

 

My skin crawls from pollution, from anxiety and doubt. 

All I want is to get out.  

Get out of my head, my crawling skin, the burning feelings of depression. 

 

Its a wasteland, there’s ashes instead of sand. 

Its a wasteland, the water burns and the fire cools. 

At least it feels like it does. Maybe it doesn’t, maybe I’m a fool.

Copyright © Powder Kiramman | Year Posted 2025