Blind Eyes

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Blind Eyes

My blind eyes scream in silence. While being strangled in a closed universe, knowing that life is based on more than just a simple song verse. As if to say I am chosen as the demands curse.

My blind eyes scream in silence. During an unforgiving dream, as if to inhale the smoke of hell without any luck of an external exhale to breath.

To be known as nothing but remembered as something. I rely on my journal no matter how pale my internal echo drives me to the silent screams of a dark angle. That doesn’t judge nor ignore. For this is where I belong, because this is where I feel strong.

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Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.

Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

TimeIdream81’s Poems (3)

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