PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

dearest disillusions,

it's fucking late, and i'm a bit tired,

more so of what im feeling, rather going through,

it's all because, of never was,

why hold the light up to the dark?

in senseless have a view.

i cant explain, the soul disdain, the pressure of solitude,

the no longer here of her, the shadow of all of you,

the beast kills the beast, suicidally.

four seconds of burn, hope sells the burden of having hope

without ever trying,

everybody's buying,

i know not what will come of this,

i mean, what are you thinking,

as you're reading,

what i'm thinking, losing, writing and feeling?

i just have to say something,

as cruel and constricted as it is,

as it feels, like only words, can give some justice.

i have an empty. out of balance. secret hurt.

i have, no answers, just comfort can, but me you cant.

it's time for sleep and forget, till tomorrow.

his ever,

Christopher Ryan, a poet