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Everyday I hang myself I nail myself I staple myself to the wall Everyday I bleed myself I let myself I rub my blood out in the hall Everyday I hate myself berate myself I get out of bed and mandate myself to update myself to curate myself Artist the **** up and create myself Everyday I design myself define myself I put on my face and outline myself Everyday I dissect myself I correct myself Take out my parts and infect myself I change myself rearrange myself I paint all my organs and stain myself Everyday I reword myself martyr myself Use the strings from the Beats to suture myself I collect myself Resurrect myself My volition in life; to perfect myself If I fail myself derail myself I'll have nothing but a cheap veil of myself; *a shattered bulb a melted fuse a pack of matches burned and used.* No supernova, glory, fame. No concrete star, with golden name. Forgotten, faded, dusty muse. Mona Lisa, cut and bruised. My blood still smeared all down the hall, my skin still nailed up to the wall. My body scarred from mutilation, mapped attempts at self-creation. A jagged, torn up, constellation, The Hero of Humiliation. Don't we all fear failure's kiss? For if you shoot for the moon and miss, you'll rot away in the abyss.
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Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 5:14 PM UTC
The Hero of Humiliation (don't we all fear failure's kiss?)
Everyday I hang myself I nail myself I staple myself to the wall Everyday I bleed myself I let myself I rub my blood out in the hall Everyday I hate myself berate myself I get out of bed and mandate myself to update myself to curate myself Artist the **** up and create myself Everyday I design myself define myself I put on my face and outline myself Everyday I dissect myself I correct myself Take out my parts and infect myself I change myself rearrange myself I paint all my organs and stain myself Everyday I reword myself martyr myself Use the strings from the Beats to suture myself I collect myself Resurrect myself My volition in life; to perfect myself If I fail myself derail myself I'll have nothing but a cheap veil of myself; *a shattered bulb a melted fuse a pack of matches burned and used.* No supernova, glory, fame. No concrete star, with golden name. Forgotten, faded, dusty muse. Mona Lisa, cut and bruised. My blood still smeared all down the hall, my skin still nailed up to the wall. My body scarred from mutilation, mapped attempts at self-creation. A jagged, torn up, constellation, The Hero of Humiliation. Don't we all fear failure's kiss? For if you shoot for the moon and miss, you'll rot away in the abyss.
lillith-foxx
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Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 5:14 PM UTC
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