my soul is attached to my body
like a phantom haunts a human
and i have never been able to see myself
across a painted mirror
every time i look into my eyes
dead lights stare back at me
no, my body was never mine
it grew into something i did not know
no matter how long i look
i am always lost
still you took my body
into your greedy palms
i was a walking corpse
you knew i was broken
and you made sure i was dead
i wake up with gaps in my memory
though i don't have to remember
because my body feels disgusting
and you made me used to it
you stole the body that never belonged to me
everyday echos the words you said
when you push the drink down my throat
it follows me every dying moment
until i die for the very last time
YOU ARE READING
𝚍𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚌
Poetrystatic stat·ic ˈstat-ik. adjective characterized by a lack of movement or change trigger warning: read at your own risk! | just an unnecessarily long collection of me trying to get over my feelings
