Sorrow


My body is made of concrete,
Keeping all the stuff inside of me.
All the little, ambiguous things add up,
You know? I call myself a gaffe now,
No joke. Don't call me backbiting!
You think it’s self-pity...
But now all I think about is hitting
My head against a wall.
What’s the use if i try?
If all that comes out is a cry,
Because of you, I can't JUST say what's wrong.
Honest mistakes to me, you say
Were glaring,
But you are former. So now tears to me,
are titillation...
I can't bear, dare to say vociferously.
Invariably, my cheeks feel heavy,
Eyes sting... Choke
On my devil-may-care tongue.
All just because my heart has been trained
To weight upon my cumbersome chest.
And like a 1000 chains around my neck,
Inflicting my own dumbness, so now-
I am concrete, synonymous.

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