Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
It gets easier every day to drag the stainless steel across my forearm. And I get closer every day to slicing it across my veins and paddle in puddles of putrid red; but I'm not supposed to feel what I feel at every pretty pink sunrise and freckled night skies. I trudge through days wishing for night to come only to wake up to another one; a million more nights of having dreams of a world beyond this fuckery.
0
Mar 10, 2021
Mar 10, 2021 at 12:01 AM UTC
life's a rat race.
It gets easier every day to drag the stainless steel across my forearm. And I get closer every day to slicing it across my veins and paddle in puddles of putrid red; but I'm not supposed to feel what I feel at every pretty pink sunrise and freckled night skies. I trudge through days wishing for night to come only to wake up to another one; a million more nights of having dreams of a world beyond this fuckery.
Written by
Mar 10, 2021
Mar 10, 2021 at 12:01 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem