Sometimes I have to remind myself
That as close as I live to the mountain's majesty
I am not made of stone.
Despite the sands of time that collect
under my eyes, dragging down into a landslide
of bruises
Regardless of how cold and hard my hands feel
as they guide warm flesh towards
hidden despair
There is still blood in my veins, channeling
through a heart heavy as the earth they
poured over an early grave
My very bones erode with their own weight
The gravel in my wrists is agonizingly
brittle
You said I have such large, pretty eyes but I fear
these petrified jungles are threatening to drown me
and the monsoon provides no relief
I've an avalanche of grief that promises rest
My cradle or my grave
or both.
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 4:13 PM UTC
Sometimes I have to remind myself
That as close as I live to the mountain's majesty
I am not made of stone.
Despite the sands of time that collect
under my eyes, dragging down into a landslide
of bruises
Regardless of how cold and hard my hands feel
as they guide warm flesh towards
hidden despair
There is still blood in my veins, channeling
through a heart heavy as the earth they
poured over an early grave
My very bones erode with their own weight
The gravel in my wrists is agonizingly
brittle
You said I have such large, pretty eyes but I fear
these petrified jungles are threatening to drown me
and the monsoon provides no relief
I've an avalanche of grief that promises rest
My cradle or my grave
or both.
Emotionally exhausted.
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