they are burning a hole in my chest
(burning me to pieces)
(burning me alive)
and I can do no more than watch
as they near, with arms outstretched
smiling widely
in an attempt to conceal
the knives behind their backs
(the ones that they will soon
use on mine).
they slit through resolve smoothly
so smoothly you don’t realize
until you’re bleeding and bruised
until you wake up
and not know how you came to be
this small
(you are obsolete)
(you know nothing).
they light the match
(and I smell the smoke)
(I see the flickering flame
screaming at me to leave
and let go)
(and foolishly, i never listen.)
YOU ARE READING
The Second Time
Poetry☾ This is a book of drafts of dorky, hopeless poems, poem-ish works, and rants that usually make no sense whatsoever. I hope you enjoy reading them just as much as I enjoy writing them. ☽ Copyright © 2015 by something1d, all rights reserved. Poetry...
