Questions of a tortured soulA Poem by Forgotten
Sometimes I wonder...
If you're told something enough times... How are you not to believe it? Words pierce my heart more effectively than any dagger could, Am I really a writer...a poet? Or do I just fancy myself to be one? You can believe something all you want, Yet you need some solidity behind the belief. I can't help but think more frequently than few, Am I boring...or am I just allowing my life to become so, Everyday day becomes a routine, An annoying drone sounding from the voices I'm too familiar with, Incessant white noise pours their mouths, I become nothing more than a puppet, A stress reliever to those who know how weak my heart beats. When your mind becomes tortured, You learn to torture yourself, Your conciousness dims as your souls begins to die, And your eyes become clouded from the reality you live in.
© 2013 ForgottenReviews
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Added on February 12, 2013Last Updated on February 12, 2013 AuthorForgottenGloucestershire, Stroud, United KingdomAboutMy real name is John-Paul Crawford, I do voluntary work at Stroud FM and hopefully after my training will be allowed my own slot on air. Writing takes up most of my time, I'm always trying to better m.. more..Writing
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