I have possibly posted this before. I admit here openly this is not a poem written today, but was written last year. I’m struggling at the moment to write a poem every single day of April. I’ve tried prompt words, nothing is coming. I’m creatively constipated. So I figured I’d find an old one.

Hearts transparent in the crevices of our smiles
Those who know what to look for
Always find
The sorrow lurking behind
The laughter in their eyes
Humour is a bridge
Over sorrow
Transcending us through the waves
Frothing grievously at our feet
Trying to drown us whole
We laugh at the stench of our morality
Becoming clowns in our own rights
Casting illusions over doubt

Get away!

I don’t have room for sympathy
For you
Or empathy
It’s been torture
All these times going round my head
Through cycles of anger and apologetic sorrow
I can’t do it anymore
Not today, not tomorrow
I cared too much
And you walk over me like I’m dirt on your shoe
I’m supposed to feel for you
“He’s ill” they say
Well, I can’t care anymore!
Get the fuck away!