Cuts from a Page
I am so delighted that it is making me bruise.
I am sick to my stomach with joy
and cold all the way down my spine,
but I don't mind.
I don't mind.
and maybe the wolf that made you scream
and run down the hill for your gun
it was just a dream, it's only a dream
we wake in the morning
it's gone
perhaps your lungs are no longer filled with air
the mucus that clogs them
is a secret despair
that you spit out in the shape of disdain
you forge into words of spite and bile
I accept with the poise you try to feign
I accept, and inhale with a smile
I am more than you thought I was
and I am worth more than you paid
to send me away.
p.s.
DON'T DO IT.
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Daevyr's Log: Titles Are Overrated
It's just a place where I keep thoughts or images that I want to be able to find later.
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