The mud is Home
I feel the filth sinking,
Crazy hot in deep.
I am useless and relentless,
but somehow I am free.
My eyes are shut,
but I still see.
I see through bullshit.
I see through love.
How can this body be so hollow.
How can this soul be so free.
As I turn around and never follow.
As I close my eyes so I can see.
I'm so drowned in my sorrow.
All I can count are my miseries.
This child is not old enough for this horror.
This adult is dying within.
Labels: black, cry, crying, dark, dead, death, depressed, depressing poem, depression, dying, misery, pain, poem, poet, poetry, sad, sorrow, verses
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