Untitled.

Your lips are sealing,

And you’re slowly feeling,

Feeling, feeling,

Detached.

Your scars were healing,

Till you felt like screaming,

Screaming, screaming,

Through them.

You’re slowly hating,

And contemplating,

The realism in the reality,

Of contentment.

You’re tired of playing,

And persistently swaying,

Swaying, swaying,

Mentally.

Your mental sway,

Has no cadence.

You cannot sense,

What you are feeling.

You’re settling,

Into the numb.

You find veracity in now.