Skinwalker
I'm wandering around the streets meeting people with different deed,
Thinking if that makes me a skinwalker? Indeed.
Oh if it could be like a jumpsuit or a skin fondant?
I'll be who I envy till filled with content.
Only if I knew other than yellow or red,
Undoing the personality wouldn't be a threat,
Obnoxious it is, to know I cannot bring
The skul I carved, till the very brim.
But how was the skin?
Potential within?
I'm wondering, in my sleep with the antagonists I weaved,
Does that make me a skinwalker?
Indeed.
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We Eat Ourselves
PoetryI'm eating myself, hope I reach the part where it hurts. A poem spot for people with genre mood swings, and for those, who read poetry as if it's a kink. Warnings 1. Gore 2. Imaginative 3. Sexual 4. Dead dove
