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Chris Balase
Poems
Oct 2020
What is
I need a poisonous tip
one that is as sharp
as the tongues of these mockers
shouting in my ears.
I need a hallow soul
with an emptiness...
as vast as the crevasse
found in my heart.
I need a knife,
a blunt knife,
to slowly feel its edges
cut open my skin
until it causes
my heart
until it causes
my soul
to cease to exist.
For what is life but a series of unfathomable events...
leading us astray?
Written by
Chris Balase
37/M/NoWhere
(37/M/NoWhere)
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