it's the emptiness
it's the hatred that builds up in the creases of your
smile, of the laughter you hide your disgust with
it's the appointments you tear from your organizer
the holes in your stomach
the sunburn on your shoulders; the redness of your nose
it's your incurable phobias
your cut-up legs
your bleeding nose
your teary eyes
your itchy back
your raw skin
swollen lips
bare nails
unkept hair
ugly voice
tiredness
why the fuck'd you think spring would fix you?
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 1:35 AM UTC
it's the emptiness
it's the hatred that builds up in the creases of your
smile, of the laughter you hide your disgust with
it's the appointments you tear from your organizer
the holes in your stomach
the sunburn on your shoulders; the redness of your nose
it's your incurable phobias
your cut-up legs
your bleeding nose
your teary eyes
your itchy back
your raw skin
swollen lips
bare nails
unkept hair
ugly voice
tiredness
why the fuck'd you think spring would fix you?
Request permission to use this poem