Somehow it doesn’t seem right That I bare these scars whilst you create my hell. Narcissism is funny that way. It gave you a paintbrush to whitewash your conscience down the drain. So now I despair Only yours is precarious. I had a premonition that the wicked don’t fall. God creates faucets for your blood to pour and it’s you that torments my gaudy razor sores. I dream of falling asleep but I drown too deep. Crawling around to retrieve pieces of the blue-black burnt child in me. My veins are raw, like spears they slice through skin. Tormentor’s whip, bruise my skin Skin for sin. Slice it, cut it, throw it away. Face of rage that face, your face face that haunts me. I close my eyes but in your shadow I’ll always be. Cocooned in words, I shall forever believe. You lived, you loved but you loved the power to feed off the brute. Feeding to feel alive. Power of the oppressor, the stitches in my mouth, the chains on my feet, the incisions that cut me deep. Now all my dreams are metal framed. Cold, grey, suffocating. Your face remains consuming my oxygen. You are the dogma I cannot erase. The blade I cannot escape.
Reason for writing:
I'm only young (18) so I have a long way to go to develop my writing style. essentially i wrote this poem about helplessness, trying to escape a past you can never be free from, It was Plath who wrote 'some things of the world are indigestible'.
Birth sign: Aries
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