I tripped
I fell
I made a mess
On the living room floor
I spilled my guts
I splattered my brains
Staining carpet
With blood and gore
I bent down
On hands and knees
To clean up
Blood and bone
Soaked up the blood
And picked up the chunks
Scrubbed the walls
Until they shone
I pulled my
Intestines
Back inside myself
Like worms returning to wet soil
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It Could Have Been Gentle - poetry
PoetryPoems about the bits of life that feel unnecessarily sharp. ~ Nails in palms and rock in throat and eyes latched in the ground, I open up in hopes of speech and find a choke of sound, Frantic thought of desperation fly beneath my hair, I don'...
