Eyes

I dare you to 

 

Stare through the dirt-smeared windows. 

Behold two panes of heavy glass. 

Feel the pain of the tear-stained past. 

 

Hollow and empty, they live while dead. 

Scenes of nothing, of numbness, of dread. 

Cut on the inside 'till silence is left--

 

Silence emcompassing internal death. 

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741