My ribs are a cage,
but it's not for my heart.
It bares its fangs
to tear me apart.
The teeth that grind
and chew and swallow,
I keep confined.
I'll soon be hollow.
They gnash and bite
to devour me whole.
Just out of sight,
they eat my soul.
YOU ARE READING
Ghostwriter
PoetryLiving with mental illness can oftentimes trap one within the inner maze of their mind. In that place, dreams, fears, wishes, and regrets all compile together to create a new world far from the one we physically exist in. At times, it becomes easy t...
