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Jul 2018
A pessimistic outlook on this blue planet
is the only way I can trudge through my shallow, pitiful existence.
Pear pressure digging a hole in my peace
and tossing the dirt to the side like it means nothing.
The brooding pitter patter of earth against earth turning me into an empty shell.
The quiet sobbing of the girl I used to be echoing loudly from within this now vacant space.
Each and every word that spills from between my lips wilting with my cancerous mind.
Tumors swelling in my hippocampus causing me to both never forget, and always forget all at once.
The diseases within my corpse-like body sinking my eye sockets
and leaving my heart for dead.
I might as well be a zombie
everybody would rather have me dead
then deal with my ugly face and diseased flesh.
Elizabeth Zenk
Written by
Elizabeth Zenk  16/F/Getting There
(16/F/Getting There)   
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