A bleak weary blanket quite invisible,

wraps around my heart, my doctor

cannot pry it away, for words have little

effect, the emotions are stained to

the skin, like a tattoo that cannot

be erased because it is buried too deeply,

and you cannot take it away,

for it is at the heart, words are a poor

form of communication when the

swirls and tornados are going to a peak,

black tornadoes, horrid sun too bright

and the greatest of what is deemed happiness

sullies me, how pointless, how tragic

the games as one twist after another

goes about, my plastic smile given to you.