deepundergroundpoetry.com
Unspoken
She said
It must be nice to wake up looking like that
To not see her face in my reflection
How dare I despise
The sadness held in her eyes
Envious hope unbearable
A glimpse of false vicariousity
Couldn’t say that it’s nice
To wake up another day
Late to my grave
I didn’t say
We see the same things in different greys
Feel the pressure of shades and layers
Beneath our days
It must be nice to wake up looking like that
To not see her face in my reflection
How dare I despise
The sadness held in her eyes
Envious hope unbearable
A glimpse of false vicariousity
Couldn’t say that it’s nice
To wake up another day
Late to my grave
I didn’t say
We see the same things in different greys
Feel the pressure of shades and layers
Beneath our days
Published 19th Mar 2024
Author's Note
I was angered by the thought my mother spoke aloud. To think it looks better on the other side, I don’t want to be someone’s false hope.
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