The pleasures of the damned ©

I can hear it
My own sound track
Can you hear yours?
Because the rest is silence.

Stagnant and uncomfortable
Its sits there waiting for you
To smack into it
And realise you don’t belong

Your voice seems too loud
As do your footsteps
When really,
You’ve barely been noticed.

Who does belong?
The people who fit?
I didn’t realise there was a mould
Some forget that we are not mouldable

Yet your eyes see it
People being pushed out
Of their curious worlds
Into the silence

The pleasures of the damned.

© Copyright of Emily