Growing

Wasted thoughts; the world weighs down

Wounds resurfacing, stained skin all around.

Shattered innocence, hear my cry

Erasing the shards of my soul, my, oh, my.

Growing mentally aged, I won’t fight it,

Withering away at the sound of silent tricks.

Lie to buy my silence, nowhere to hide,

Simply existing by day; Exposed lovingly by Moonlight.

A forged and fabricated reality, I don’t see it nor hear it;

Numbly embracing the invisible depths of my spirit.

Growing generally detached, my life’s tilted axis,

Permanence.  Incurable. Unable. Inadequate.   

 

Author's Note

Reviews

[JC]

great flow of tragic thoughts, i can almost hear your nails scratching at invisible barriers, clawing and driven to surface to a better day.

[Everett DeValle]

'A forged and fabricated reality, I don’t see it nor hear it'...such a deep line that brought fire to your poem. Lovely, Rose.

[zainul]

This is a splendid write.
The nature of growing has been depicted nicely.

[Odysseus Wanders]

Oh, I like. Good meter. Good rhythm and rhyme scheme. Offers some variations on the read.
Nice emotional tone. Good mood. Great profound topic. To mine ears the often painful machinery of change and the expanding into oneself is at work in your poem. So much happens behind the scenery of my lifes stage. Weird right. Some moments i notice, that without my permission nor consent... I have grown! Egads says I.
Wonderful Poem Rose!
Nicely handled.