I got my fire from you
you burned me when you passed it down
and still I leave my mark
a trail of soot and ashes
everywhere that I go
nothing more
than another stain upon your legacy
I know you see him when you look at me
we share the same eyes
the same face— your face
but I'm still here
a walking corpse
buried six feet above
in a suburban mausoleum
-everyone thought it was going to be me.
YOU ARE READING
Greener | A Collection of Poems
PoetryA collection of poems and pieces for when you are waiting for the world to be green again. TW: Mental Illness, Death, SA
