Numb.

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Numb.

Been numb so long I have forgotten how to feel.
Try to remember, but nothing seems real.
My world goes from black to shiny gray.
Sometimes the world seems a little frayed.
Starting to see the world through my own eyes.
I have been removing my disquise.
Emotions attacking from all sides.
From these emotions, I can no longer hide.
Feel alone in the middle of a crowd.
My emotions are screaming loud.
Try to find a release. Try to calm my fears.
But the screaming is left on deaf ears.

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Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion.

T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

rogge26’s Poems (2)

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