Silent Films and Silent Elegies

A Tortured Poet’s Regret — No16

Photo by Roth Melinda on Unsplash

my voice
might not be what i thought it was —
not as powerful as i wished
nor as freeing as i wanted.

every single day
i choke back so many things —
all these feelings pent-up
as if i can’t breathe for their weight upon me.

when i look in my mirror in the morning,
i see someone who’s holding back
and wonder why she fights it
even as she slowly drowns.

i wanted so much more
than nothing —
but the day will never come
when i have everything.

i’m a pauper —
far from the glitz and glamour
of something beholden to amazing things —
and i wander listlessly through scenes

all the damn time.

the landscapes change,
the rooms change,
and the people change —
but i remain the same.