The soles of my feet,
raw.
Mile after mile, i run
To clear my mind, but deep down it’s to see how far away I’m able to get from this version of myself
My spine,
bruised.
Sticking out like thorns in a garden, piercing the skin
Every sit up brings me closer to pain.
Fingers and toes,
cold and brittle.
The blood does not flow fast enough anymore to keep me warm.
Once iron filled, now ghostly pale.
But
don’t you dare try to write me off
as if I am completely broken
when all I am is cracked.
I will learn how to fill the missing pieces,
the parts that slowly dissipated behind closed doors.
Trust me,
I am worth salvaging.
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 4:09 PM UTC
The soles of my feet,
raw.
Mile after mile, i run
To clear my mind, but deep down it’s to see how far away I’m able to get from this version of myself
My spine,
bruised.
Sticking out like thorns in a garden, piercing the skin
Every sit up brings me closer to pain.
Fingers and toes,
cold and brittle.
The blood does not flow fast enough anymore to keep me warm.
Once iron filled, now ghostly pale.
But
don’t you dare try to write me off
as if I am completely broken
when all I am is cracked.
I will learn how to fill the missing pieces,
the parts that slowly dissipated behind closed doors.
Trust me,
I am worth salvaging.
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