burning sensation inside my flesh
like a wildfire in a forest.
the bones I have got twisted,
these tissues have never been rested.
my skin is flaming in heat.
don't tear, this isn't death yet.
underneath, it's hard to pump oxygen.
let this vessel taste some painkillers.
'cause i feel the hot atmosphere,
at this moment i don't want to cry for help dear.
it's my suitcase of physical drain
thus, i savor it alone under the rain.
it helps me not to scream your name,
and no one will see the tears.
YOU ARE READING
ain't first, ain't last
Poetryto be one's saturn. [old poetry collection for someone we could never have]
