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wannabe_writer_1120
Poems1
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I am ‘dying’, that’s what some say; killing beauty to leave ugliness behind. I ‘mutilate’, though I seemed butchered before. I ‘desecrate’, though I feel myself violated after the first blood. I ‘poison’ myself, though I felt a venom flowing in me long before. I **** searching for a mirage, something that isn’t meant to be. But that’s not what I’m doing. I trim what has been holding me down to become weightless. I expose myself to make myself stronger and give color to a blank canvas. I nourish myself with what my body has been craving to keep myself alive. ‘You killed her!’ some cry. No, I am taking off the mask and shedding the skin since it was getting too stuffy to breathe.
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Apr 19, 2024
Apr 19, 2024 at 9:35 AM UTC
wannabe_writer_1120
Dying
I am ‘dying’, that’s what some say; killing beauty to leave ugliness behind. I ‘mutilate’, though I seemed butchered before. I ‘desecrate’, though I feel myself violated after the first blood. I ‘poison’ myself, though I felt a venom flowing in me long before. I **** searching for a mirage, something that isn’t meant to be. But that’s not what I’m doing. I trim what has been holding me down to become weightless. I expose myself to make myself stronger and give color to a blank canvas. I nourish myself with what my body has been craving to keep myself alive. ‘You killed her!’ some cry. No, I am taking off the mask and shedding the skin since it was getting too stuffy to breathe.
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