The heart that beats
pumps the fluid I shed,
inking these sheets
with words in blood red.
I cannot ****
what's already dead,
I've got no will
so I won't find a way ahead.
Lost in my mind
these thoughts I thread,
while living in rewind
I curse the present instead.
Lonely like the 52Hz whale
I stay unheard & unsaid,
in this self-created jail
hallucinating the reality I dread.
I wish that I could resurrect,
like a butterfly from its skin shred,
all my broken parts could I collect
and piece them into poetry unread.