Porcelain Mind

I live in the cracks of a porcelain mind, Where whispers crawl and reason dies. No one hears the hum inside, The static screams behind my eyes. They call me strange, they call me mad, As if their words could cage the storm— But I am lightning, bruised and sad, A ghost still trying to take form. I wear my thoughts like tattered skin, Each tear a secret I can’t mend. They stare, but never see within— I’m a story they won’t comprehend. Treated like trash, left in decay, A heart once bright now thrown away. I smile—cracked glass in disguise— While bleeding quiet lullabies. So let me rot where shadows bloom, In the asylum of my head’s small room. For sanity’s a distant shore, And I don’t belong there anymore. lost alone and broke discarded like left over trash will anyone see me in the end?