with my very own eyes, i see the rotten flesh of mine die
deader than dead
upon gazing on a walking mirror — a material-less self
i wish i did not speak nor spoke in a different way
lest not think this day
when people are horrible — horribly
just like me
just like me
lately, i have been illiterate.
hasty is this mouth that has beheld bad composures upon being looked upon at all
for i am not a flower to gaze at, nor a star to wonder
i do not see myself at all
since all i am is all that worries this precious soul
and i blind myself with me
here it is again, the same old topic, the same old story, the same old rant
about a word i will not mention for it is already too bland
on the tip of my tongue — i wish it would be gone
its meaning sure is, i wish it never did
loneliness is key
to be filled with pertinent happiness, at least only to fill
we are containers
containers with holes
containers with moles
i hate this obliterating gaze
that kills the curiosity in others
if only i could take it off like shades,
maybe then i could make a good mother
nobody has ever regarded me as the person i would like to be
young and sweet and graceful in all sides
maybe this is why
if it is within my circle of salt,
i guess i will stay
but to look out the window
to see what it’s like outside
that in which — all together, is another story
take away this garbage bag of a heart
take away these knives to the throat
i am not an angel nor a dove
i would want the best from above
but not from me
May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 9:55 AM UTC
with my very own eyes, i see the rotten flesh of mine die
deader than dead
upon gazing on a walking mirror — a material-less self
i wish i did not speak nor spoke in a different way
lest not think this day
when people are horrible — horribly
just like me
just like me
lately, i have been illiterate.
hasty is this mouth that has beheld bad composures upon being looked upon at all
for i am not a flower to gaze at, nor a star to wonder
i do not see myself at all
since all i am is all that worries this precious soul
and i blind myself with me
here it is again, the same old topic, the same old story, the same old rant
about a word i will not mention for it is already too bland
on the tip of my tongue — i wish it would be gone
its meaning sure is, i wish it never did
loneliness is key
to be filled with pertinent happiness, at least only to fill
we are containers
containers with holes
containers with moles
i hate this obliterating gaze
that kills the curiosity in others
if only i could take it off like shades,
maybe then i could make a good mother
nobody has ever regarded me as the person i would like to be
young and sweet and graceful in all sides
maybe this is why
if it is within my circle of salt,
i guess i will stay
but to look out the window
to see what it’s like outside
that in which — all together, is another story
take away this garbage bag of a heart
take away these knives to the throat
i am not an angel nor a dove
i would want the best from above
but not from me
