The Riot in Me
Dark is the mind,
an ever-growing abyss.
But darker is the soul,
that sunders me from bliss.
The world, judgemental,
The pressure vast.
Running in the human race,
always coming last.
I choke back tears,
I hold back pain.
I want to feel good,
be alive again.
The voices scream,
The voices shout.
They trap me and hold me down,
I know there is no way out.
Sharp is the knife,
and soft is the skin,
Let me escape
this prison I’ve been living in.
This prison of lies
this prison of hate
this prison of judgement
this prison of fate.
Sharp is the knife,
the blade will release me.
No longer trapped in this prison;
but escape is not easy.
Ayman Vorajee
Poem 1 from the wHATEver collection
Amazing ❤️