Poetic Dustbin

The Crank

I can feel the glass shattering
inside my head, inside my brain
Each broken piece is a chapter
wounding my sanity
keeping me awake
depriving me of solace
carving through my skin
tearing through my flesh
It doesn’t end, it never does
The crackling sound it makes
and the torment it bestows
are voices of little demons
making my ears bleed
over and over again
I am cranked
superficially alive
and the world won’t mind
my cries, my pleas
It’s all in my thoughts
swallowed by anguish
and there is no utopia…

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