I wonder


I wonder what it’s like
To not be trapped within the vortex of my own insanity,
Palms pressing against the glass that closes in on me
Their jeers and taunts looming over me—
Emanating from the sea of mirrors in my own mind
As impenetrable as the darkness that lingers
In the crevices of my swollen mind

I wonder what it’s like
To exist outside of the churning oceans of myself,
Away from the calamities trapped in my mind
Like a fly eternally suspended in glittering amber
To not tip backward every time I stand
Falling back into the perpetual darkness of myself

I wonder what it’s like
To not wonder;
To not spend breaths heaving in the turmoil of denial,
To not jolt back down when trying to stay in the air,
To not see the jeers escape your lips in self-anguish

I wonder what it’s like
To not wonder about the mirage—
To feel its tangible, silken warmth on gilded fingers
I wonder what it’s like
To know what I’ll never be able to.

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