zoegomez
your hands were so versatile
how they could keep me safe
and make me warmer than a woolen blanket
and how they could freeze my insides
with deep fear and
incredibly unnecessary
troubled thoughts
my temper soars
and drops
and soars once more
all that I felt, did he feel?
I need him more than he needs me
he's my lifeblood
and it scares me more than I know
standing on swings
moving back and forth
time stops
wind running through my hair
freedom
stepping off, time continues
despair consumes.
town, city, village
where is the difference?
they're all places to live
and life, life is suffering
all places are suffering
and people? they are suffering most of all
Sweet dessert, just dessert
What they deserve
Poisoned, nothing less
All the suffering they've brought me
They deserve nothing more
Sweet dessert, just dessert
Murder
What an easy word to write about.
I've too many razor blade scars to count.
I won't even bother.
I won't even bother to make this poetic in any way.
I won't even bother to pretend to care.
I won't.
The soul can be blemished by the thorns of mortality.
How can a soul be saved with thorns all about?
It can't.
It must live with the wounds, with naught to do but lay down and cry.
My body is a temple.
Temples are sacred, they all say.
But I destroy it.
No longer.
But I miss it so.
I yearn for it so.
To paint it red is my night's dream.
My thought's most important.
But promises are to be kept.
I am a pauper to the princesses of the earth.
Forever a slave to their unending beauty.
The princes all come for them,
And I am left with but the animals in the stable.
Never ending subjugation.
My gown is ripped in two.
My soul in 17.
Succulent silence is lacking in this noisy town.
Never a second of solitude and peace.
My soul in 17.
My gown painted red.
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