Schizophrenia.com

Shedding my skin

as i shed a tear i empty my thoughts
as it rolls down my cheek
as i clear my head
a tear is shed
and i wish that i had forgot
but it don’t make me weak

i would weep and things would seep
through the pores
through the floor boards
of empty rooms
with people doing chores
through the cracks in the walls
through holes and halls
where the whispers call
and the smoke gathers its mist

a fog on an empty field
leaving its dew that it was due
for a thousand years
angels tears
it comes close to the peak of a mountain top
calling for the clouds to stop
giving it a shroud on its outcrop
waiting for the wind to gently caress
bless and blow the tales of woe away

but that was yesterday

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This poem is like a cool breeze for me. Very refreshing. I just came back from a gathering of my high school classmates. They are awfully materialists, talking about investment and real estates all the time. I was lonely while sitting among them.

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