Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2017
I’m drowning, I said.
Swim, you snapped.

I don’t know how,
I just don’t know where to start.
If I should fix me—
how to fix me.

Do it one at a time,
sun peeked through your smile.

My ankles were chained,
locked in rusty old metals
and key’s drowning deep.

Dive it in.

I don’t know how to do it.
Tears resounded on ocean waters,
they never will back out.
Demons will always pry onto your pretty mind,
before you could catch your breath.

They burn well.
Before it hurt,
they burnt your lungs.
And you still,
try to catch your breath
hopelessly.

Live, you said.
I’ll be here.
I’m always here.
You could use my shirt,
or my shoulder,
or take my blood.

Shy thing,
thank you.
This one's for my little sister.
Aly
Written by
Aly  Gender Fluid
(Gender Fluid)   
673
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems