Tell me if
you’re pale like me
inside,
staring at those
empty walls
that dusty room
trying to paint them
brilliant azure,
as it all melts
away,
like chalk scribbles
on cement.
The rain
rushes down
unrelenting
beating inside of me
until I shiver
no longer warm
yet
I’m still here,
captive.
Tell me if you’re
pale like me
inside
when you laugh
like summer’s gleam
and stand immaculate
as a statue.
I watch and
can’t see the pale.
Comments
We're not the only ones to
We're not the only ones to wonder if we're the only ones.
I have hated the words and I have loved them, and I hope I have made them right. --The Book Thief
Beautiful.
Beautiful.
Good job. :)
I liked this poem. Even flow, good ideas. Very nice.