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Was it not I Who tried to die Nine Lives Three are spent And here I lie My third grave. I fell slave to love To behave Elocution by electrocution- See my eyes Touch my hair I may breathe men for air But mine eyes Have seen the light To the unenvyable cry Of my plight Slight of hand; What a trick it is to die. Maggots feast upon my eyes, I would've rather burnt: Little jew, little jew What has Herr Doktor done to you Chimney stacks Bellow black; I do not do I do not do The black shoe I've been living in For nearly two years of suffering My ailing mind Blind to happiness. deranged: A form of estranged from reality. For now I fly High as a vulture Hung in the sky, The Zoroastrian carcass Beneath my circle; i cannot die, Without that vulture A phoenix become As bright as the Sun And I will never die Cheated of six lives it is not fair so yes i eat men like air.
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Nov 27, 2016
Nov 27, 2016 at 8:06 AM UTC
As Sylvia Plath
Was it not I Who tried to die Nine Lives Three are spent And here I lie My third grave. I fell slave to love To behave Elocution by electrocution- See my eyes Touch my hair I may breathe men for air But mine eyes Have seen the light To the unenvyable cry Of my plight Slight of hand; What a trick it is to die. Maggots feast upon my eyes, I would've rather burnt: Little jew, little jew What has Herr Doktor done to you Chimney stacks Bellow black; I do not do I do not do The black shoe I've been living in For nearly two years of suffering My ailing mind Blind to happiness. deranged: A form of estranged from reality. For now I fly High as a vulture Hung in the sky, The Zoroastrian carcass Beneath my circle; i cannot die, Without that vulture A phoenix become As bright as the Sun And I will never die Cheated of six lives it is not fair so yes i eat men like air.
Sylvia Plath, my idol. My muse. Bastardised.
vdxx
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Nov 27, 2016
Nov 27, 2016 at 8:06 AM UTC
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