Too Much
By: Jacqueline B.
Somewhere inside, there's an ache.
With every passing moment the pain increases.
They say it's merely a figment of the imagination,
But…
How can something so painful be a figment of the mind?
No one can help, since the 'illusion' is ignored.
The ache morphs into emptiness,
And now time is running out.
The hollow feeling of loneliness induces cold thoughts.
Ever so slowly pressure builds,
Reaching a point where it can no longer be ignored as an illusion of the mind.
Cold thoughts again infect the mind,
Feeding fuel to the unbearable pressure.
And end is wanted…
Sought…
Found…
And the silence is broken by the sound of cries,
The sorrow filled ones belonging to the ones that ignored.
With every passing moment the pain increases.
They say it's merely a figment of the imagination,
But…
How can something so painful be a figment of the mind?
No one can help, since the 'illusion' is ignored.
The ache morphs into emptiness,
And now time is running out.
The hollow feeling of loneliness induces cold thoughts.
Ever so slowly pressure builds,
Reaching a point where it can no longer be ignored as an illusion of the mind.
Cold thoughts again infect the mind,
Feeding fuel to the unbearable pressure.
And end is wanted…
Sought…
Found…
And the silence is broken by the sound of cries,
The sorrow filled ones belonging to the ones that ignored.
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