These finish lines lining my gut,
Scars of past encounters
Ive ran far too fast and far too long
to still be standing up straight,
My shoulders ripped from corner to corner,
A snake of a lesion lies between them,
hissing and curling itself into some knot,
For years now it has slept,
Cracked and shed it’s skin; strewn in ribbons across the floor,
Leaving nothing but that vice grip reminder
that it is only thing I have left of myself
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 10:50 PM UTC
These finish lines lining my gut,
Scars of past encounters
Ive ran far too fast and far too long
to still be standing up straight,
My shoulders ripped from corner to corner,
A snake of a lesion lies between them,
hissing and curling itself into some knot,
For years now it has slept,
Cracked and shed it’s skin; strewn in ribbons across the floor,
Leaving nothing but that vice grip reminder
that it is only thing I have left of myself
