They stole my name,
The gratitude I offered
When others made me feel in the likes of a being
Flow of pure and cryptid in my mind
Blown to bits by flies
Swatting until they fall
In the stick,
Slick tears tangled in my brows
Upside down I starve,
But do not let my satisfaction command your hunger,
For hope might heal a new me
Will my words leak,
Like sloppy ink on the sheets
Or will silence rule in the crook of my neck,
Edging a sob and maybe nothing worth calling music at all
Nov 27, 2020
Nov 27, 2020 at 1:26 PM UTC
They stole my name,
The gratitude I offered
When others made me feel in the likes of a being
Flow of pure and cryptid in my mind
Blown to bits by flies
Swatting until they fall
In the stick,
Slick tears tangled in my brows
Upside down I starve,
But do not let my satisfaction command your hunger,
For hope might heal a new me
Will my words leak,
Like sloppy ink on the sheets
Or will silence rule in the crook of my neck,
Edging a sob and maybe nothing worth calling music at all
Request permission to use this poem