Wednesday, 19 February 2020

A poem before all was lost

Fire burns the eyes of you. Daggers lash the wrists of way. I’m lost I’m blind I’m nothing. Worthless as trash but trash burns the eyes of you . Al alone and weak. But I can’t feel a thing. Be kind they say but to whom they speak. Lies lies lies. I wish I was dead. Off with her head! A rope around the neck or an injection of air. To make the heart stop, to make the heart bleed. Why is my poetry so suicidal? Why are you suicidal. Why does death convey me, why do we need air to breathe and a heart to pump? Have you found you’re calling or are you just incapable. Are you boring and weird sleek like a Cheshire Cat? Are you fat an ugly like you were yesterday? Confidence baby

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