i am nothing more than the ghosts i keep
of the people i miss and
of the sliding doors i should've left untouched
they are tied to my back and they hang low
my face is an inch above the ground
this is self punishment
a form of self hatred and loathing
because if someone else won't do it, i have to
someone has to answer for these crimes
and i am the willing participant
YOU ARE READING
Missing Pieces
Poesíaa random collection, a sort of cohesion, of mental chaos and emotion. most of it was written years ago and is now nothing but a stamp in time, a reminder of who i was. enjoy !
