TW: Creepy-ness idk, blood, implications of abuse
That feeling that something awful will happen
That feeling when you see a pile of clothes in your room
That feeling when you can't breathe quite right
That feeling of fear
But not like true fear
Early years of my life
Sharp pins against my head and back
It's bright red
Soft and white
Your teeth drag against concrete
Bones and blood
Green jewels embedded into your hairs
You walk on eggshells
You walk on grass
I walk on fire and blades
Owl feathers dot my path
A God that cries the loudest scream
Owl feathers under my skin
Blood pressure rising
You don't wake up in the same bed that morning
It's unsettling to reflect on yourself
You don't recognize your own feelings
The gore and skin stretching on walls
I feel amazing
It hurts to see you living
I hurt
I hurt you
YOU ARE READING
Vent art, poetry, and just... vent
PoetryTW, it gets dark. If you have a passion for bizarre stuff and shitty poetry and mental illness then this book is...... concerningly accurate to your unhealthy interests. I'm okay, don't worry 👍😘
