What are we
if not empty vessels
for the world -
its conditions,
others expectations
and our own obligations.
There is a fine line
between discipline
and destroying
yourself -
one crossed
too many times,
like the veins
of red regret
through your wrists.
Tell me,
if I were to slice them open,
and let all the burden
spill out -
what would you do?
Would you try
to stitch it up
or would you
let yourself bleed dry?
between a silver line and a silver bullet
YOU ARE READING
Titles are Overrated
PoetryThis is the equivalent of Notes app on your phone, so yeah, exposing myself. I guess it's considered poetry. Enjoy. :)