I can't walk without a handful of ghosts falling out of my pocket,
their dull screams haunting me with every step I take, and this
pain that they've carried, ripped from their fragile bones is
forced upon me, every fucking second I'm alone.
each day is a lucid dream, so dangerous I can almost taste it--
but I can't, in a world where love is as real as the dreams of
a middle-aged, broken man, living on the hope that one day it'll be
bearable enough to look up with a smile.
or the scream of a girl being torn from her home,
clawing at the floors with her bloodied hands as she
succumbs to society's inane demands.
the silent cries of the ones too shy to reach out,
to touch the sun and hold it in their arms,
watching as it burns away their skin and sinks into their hearts-
bringing them together so this time, they won't fall
to pieces, scattered too far apart to rebuild.
This poem is really good, just like all the others. They make you really think, you know? I like your style of writing, it's far better than what I can do. Like, way better. I really, really liked the first line for some reason, it just drew me in and idk it was cool. Loved this poem :) -taylor
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