I grew up in the walls of an awry and anxious apartment,
Raised by no one but lonely echoes and empty entertainment.

Crashing down the stairs of my mind,
I can feel my body aching but I don’t feel alive.

I can still experience pain,
Maybe a little more than I used to.
A small spark helps keep me sane,
As I feel the cold’s enough to turn my lips blue.

It’s a cold night,
I pull up my covers and try to hide.

I close my eyes, but I don’t stop seeing,
In the world void of brightness, alive is all that I’m feeling.

I find comfort in the dark,
Each shadow I consider to be a work of art.

Sometimes I feel safer in the cold and brooding,
An atmosphere I’ve learned to turn to in times of eluding.

I’ve been raised by bittersweet darkness,
And that’s all I can see,
When I look the mirror,
A tangled mess that can never be freed.

© Grinchy