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Tortured Soul

The writer
Inside of the victim
Looks at them
And wonders
What it was
She did to them
To make it go this far
Lost in her own little world
To escape the insanity around her
The only thing of which
She is sure
Is that she would give the world
Just to get out of here
Always alone
Soul grown cold
What she wouldn't give
To again feel whole
With a passion unseen
She yearns to be free
So that one day
She can finally say
I am finally me

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©15 March 2012 - 11:12pm — LittleLennonGurl
25 March 2012 - 7:16am — MatthewWayne
MatthewWayne's picture

loved the first part of this

loved the first part of this poem, very powerful. Thank you for sharing!

"I am my own sort of strange, a supernova of madness and brillance. Forced to share the same space and time. Sane enough to not be seen, yet not crazy enough to be heard." -- Matthew Wayne

27 March 2012 - 3:42am — LittleLennonGurl
LittleLennonGurl's picture

Thanks

I'm glad you like it. I got the first part of it in my head and was just like oh I have got to be able make a poem out of this. Just so happens that the poem ended up telling exactly how I have felt for the better part of the last almost 20 years. It is by far one of my favorite things I have ever written.