Degrees of numbness
do not stem my breath
Like a broken light bulb
during a power cut.
Colours of silence
do not paint my dreams
Like strains of white noise
in a cacophony.
Curves of melancholy
do not sculpt my thoughts
Like a blunt chisel of stone
carving dry sand.
Pricks of pain
do not puncture my heart
Like a bent needle
sewing broken glass.
Life does
not
seem to make a difference.
Anymore.
are you ok? write me if you want. if writing would help. dont become numb.
ReplyDeleteeverything is going to be ok.
hugs
Ouch.
ReplyDeleteThat's not sounding too good.. if it's any consolation, I have been through a similar phase and come out of, back to my usual.
@grafx: Yea, am ok. Write to you I will, sometime. Hope you are well too. hugs.
ReplyDelete@mad: Usual... what if this is usual.