deepundergroundpoetry.com
Static
Garbled prose runs through my head
A bullet train crashing on the tracks
When the news caster starts counting fatalities
Static crackles
I'm feeling too much, too little
Doctors know I'm wearing red
When they tell me it'll be alright
Static crackles
Empty messes drop from my mouth
A carefully concealed tragedy
When they start to wonder what it is
Static crackles
I don't understand where my words go
A face like an empty page
When they start to ask whats wrong
Static crackles
And i say I'm ok
A bullet train crashing on the tracks
When the news caster starts counting fatalities
Static crackles
I'm feeling too much, too little
Doctors know I'm wearing red
When they tell me it'll be alright
Static crackles
Empty messes drop from my mouth
A carefully concealed tragedy
When they start to wonder what it is
Static crackles
I don't understand where my words go
A face like an empty page
When they start to ask whats wrong
Static crackles
And i say I'm ok
Published 28th Jan 2017
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