Cryptic Mood

The way I am

is a bit obscure

for someone

like you sure.

I’m not good

at the things try

take my eyes I

try them to dry.

Exist I’ll try it

to try withstand

the pain a crime;

wound has sand.

Come with me

my soul craves it.

An empty place;

to think here sit.

I drive my hand

into the walls me

I blood I feel dry

on skin I bleed.

I speak not truth

the same as you.

See swerves in

the way lips move.

I try I will listen

help to try tell you.

That I sit stupid not

knowing what do.

Summon me to

be so removed

and the hurt cries

a cryptic mood.

2 Comments Add yours

  1. I loved reading your great piece.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you! I appreciate it.

      Liked by 1 person

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