His skin is soft,
Yet rough where the scar resides.
He's smiling,
But his eyes show grief;
Sadness.
The smallest glance at his expression makes me want to cry.
It's fake.
And it's so obvious.
I feel so much pity for him.
He's a good person.
Kind, careless, nurturing.
Yet here he is,
So mellow,
Empty.
I turn away from the mirror.
I can't bear to look at him any longer;
To look at myself.
To be honest,
I have no idea why I turned out this way.
Why I've turned into him;
This angst filled person.
I think I just couldn't be happy anymore.
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Target Audience
PoetryA book of poems; the deep dark depths of nothingness fill these pages, they can be a bit disturbing. Hopefully they reach the targeted Audience.
