We are the classics in the genre of compulsivity
In mortality, we have high rates yet we bury ourselves in pain to create depth
And believe we won't suffocate
We bet on our own bets hoping our expectations of failure will make us feel relief
We resist the urge to toss and turn to get control in the form of sleep
Yet we still make change for people who want to live rent free in our heads, who lie through crooked teeth
We are the white roses who grow to be placed on graves, who will never been seen by who we are meant to be
We yearn for growth, yet easily conflate failure with descent
We eagerly await the sound of a heart beat, which we are taught life depends
And when we write our own stories we still wonder if life is the subject, the verb, or the pen.
YOU ARE READING
Daydreams of destruction //Poetry\\
PuisiI'm a song and poetry writer, I'm uploading this to improve my craft. Hopefully I'll be able to post every day, and hopefully you enjoy.
