Things

I fear,
not madness,
that would be too simple
and that’s not on today’s
agenda.

That I have not
known true joy,
when your dial is set
to sadness and broken,
then how would you know?

The isolation
of the Lonely,
not just being alone,
but true disconnection
from a society
losing its empathy.

Knowing who I am,
how can I avoid
repeating history,
if I don’t remember it.
Where in my depths
is the core of me?

The monster,
I never truly
let it loose,
it got free once,
I caged it again,
but I still feel it in me.

Is this all there is
or all that I am?
No rhyme or reason,
just these
jagged, broken
things…

Tymen

Please Check out my Patreon and contribute should you wish to.
Always remember Poetry isn’t a Choice.

Also, I’m still working on my Passion Project, my Poetry collection, In Media Rêves. Check out my GoFundMe and contribute if you would like.

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