Dec 2019
This crown of thorns:
Pushed farther on mine brow,
My brain, it mourns.
Mourns the sadness to which I bow.
These cuffs of blades:
Cut deep into mine legs and arms,
I have been cut by this ace of spades;
The forsaken knife, that exclusively harms.
This unfair reality:
It eats away at all thats left,
It falsely gives me a principality.
The load of emotions, I still heft.
A heart i will never take,
But I still stumble on.
Each day with another mistake,
My hope is just another con.
Pushed farther on mine brow,
My brain, it mourns.
Mourns the sadness to which I bow.
These cuffs of blades:
Cut deep into mine legs and arms,
I have been cut by this ace of spades;
The forsaken knife, that exclusively harms.
This unfair reality:
It eats away at all thats left,
It falsely gives me a principality.
The load of emotions, I still heft.
A heart i will never take,
But I still stumble on.
Each day with another mistake,
My hope is just another con.
So ummm yeah, the first poem I wrote, way back in feb of 2019 right after a suicide attempt... Jesus-*******-Christ that’s dark. But I thought I’d share the story behind it. Also was reading Macbeth at the time, so that’s why the language is odd.
