its sick of me right
to be up into the depths of night
wanting a diagnosis, a pill to pop,
morning and night
fixing this rot
the rot is me, for that is what i am
i am broken, bruised yet on the outside
i am well.
well - in a good or satisfactory manner
except for tarnishing scars, carved into my back
faded into a splitting grey
'not my colour really darling' you say
in some grasp, clawing your paws skyward
imposter syndrome plagues daily
clinical trials never proved nor questioned
prognosis given minutely
updates routine
yet it all feels
deafening
like shouting into the abyss
calling meaningless names
and waiting for an imaginary crystalline rope to haul you up
a trojan horse, is what you are
hauling conditions at your enemies, in some screaming fight
when inside, it is just a ruse, a cry for help.
oh how could i not help, they think
yet when the rope snaps, they never put their ear to the abyss
instead chastise the creator.
Jul 20, 2019
Jul 20, 2019 at 5:56 AM UTC
its sick of me right
to be up into the depths of night
wanting a diagnosis, a pill to pop,
morning and night
fixing this rot
the rot is me, for that is what i am
i am broken, bruised yet on the outside
i am well.
well - in a good or satisfactory manner
except for tarnishing scars, carved into my back
faded into a splitting grey
'not my colour really darling' you say
in some grasp, clawing your paws skyward
imposter syndrome plagues daily
clinical trials never proved nor questioned
prognosis given minutely
updates routine
yet it all feels
deafening
like shouting into the abyss
calling meaningless names
and waiting for an imaginary crystalline rope to haul you up
a trojan horse, is what you are
hauling conditions at your enemies, in some screaming fight
when inside, it is just a ruse, a cry for help.
oh how could i not help, they think
yet when the rope snaps, they never put their ear to the abyss
instead chastise the creator.