I deceive myself, this illusion that I love myself at my own free will. My body is my own battlefield. Naked I stand and without you my poetry is lost land. I am forced to see that the responsibility of self worth is none but my own. Now I stand trying to regain myself.
When you write please tell me about your eyes, How they look in the clear night skies, Or the hot sunny days. Ask others what they see, and then tell me, Because I'm desperate to remember, You see i'm forgetting the very thing, that held me together.
it starts with one just one drip then another then more one after the other soon there are rivers rivers of black black waterfalls running rivers running down the face the pale, smooth face the black rivers run until there is no more to be shed it takes a while because the drips don't stop but it doesn't matter she's cried the last tear and felt the last drop and then it all stops