By # Cyra the poet
# Dripping pen.
a brighter morning ,
washed out morning sense,
living by the monsters,
am afraid of my mask,
my demon monsters ,
a burden of breathing,
chocking pain of breath,
yet nothing much to gain,
anxiety chocks like poisonous snake,
black eyed said all hail thee,
lonely blissful solitude ,
void silly emotions ,
bereft of pain and tears ,
no tears ,no nothing ,
deaths here,
speaking low from unseen ,
void creped into existence ,
nothing more to gain,
sadness remains to hug,
falling down like rain,
caging me in a chain ,
living nothing but pain,
left all in vain,
hollow air left in my vein,
I can’t no more reign ,
sighs of speech have no whispers ,
yet calling I can’t whish ,
walking in streets ,
yet am a living dead,
solace of life,
quenched my living hope ,
my demons too,
have caged me in eternal death ,
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