Anonymous

They claim joy cometh in the morning
Obviously someone lied.
The morning came to me with cold hands
And joy I searched for but never found.
Sorrow became my dwelling
Sad faces became my appearance
Broken bones with spaces of holes..
Struck deep inside of me from sorrows hoes..
My Lips stucks
My heart strucks
With my Fictive thoughts I built a world of my own..
A world worth more than wonderland
My Nightmare stung me
As a scorpion its prey
Life is not a bed of roses
My Bed filled with thorns
Am addicted to sorrow..
It befits me
My hair turned grey
As am served on Tears tray
Broken am I
Like shattered glasses
My Blood has stopped turning Red
Now it has become White
White!
Yes because life is no longer in me
I am a noise
Louder than that found in the market place
Pay no attention to me
Am but a problem
I am cut apart
Torn to pieces like rags found at the threshold of insane men
Feel pity for me
As am bound to this pains I speak of
My Face is not seen and my Voices you hear in your head…
Though I am Anonymous..

written by: Brainthepoet