I can't help but choke from all the words shoved down my throat. I'm a versatile object, i can be used as a trash can, a punching bag. I'm the type of object that is used constantly and repeatedly even if its for different reasons. I try to change, I tried to be a book but all my pages were filled with lies, I tried to be a mirror but all I reflected was my own self-hatred. I tried to be something I am not, and for that I am broken. I have a hole in the bottom so that trash falls out, I have a split seam so that all the filling pours out. Every use I have is flawed, therefore I am too. The next time all the words are shoved down my throat and I can't help but choke, I'll make sure to remind myself that this isn't the first time and definitely not the last.
YOU ARE READING
No One Will Read This
PoetryThis series of poems, if I can even call it that is a series all about my life and how I feel in a particular moment whether I'm happy or sad. Pls enjoy or don't.
