I'm a terrible person, we all have our flaws.
Most born with hands. I was given claws.
Ripping apart,
Everyone I love.
If I get too close now,
I try and wear gloves.
Or keep them in my pockets,
Protected from others.
There was only one time, someone took off my gloves.
Held my claws in their hands, then kissed my palms.
They said they understand.
They said it was fine.
And for the first time,
My claws felt like hands.
No instinct to kill. No urge to harm.
Just me and my new hands,
Connected to my arms.
Then two hands became four.
But eventually there was three.
Because one claw came back,
Sneaking up on me.
It ripped away my person,
Tearing them to shreds.
Leaving them with scars from their toes to their head.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
But they gave me new gloves and said not to worry.
These gloves fit much better now,
How strange? how funny!
I promised to never, ever take them off.
But by then my person had already gone.
Having no choice, I ran away too.
Always looking back for a glimpse or two.
Some question my gloves,
Try and take them off,
But in case you come back they won't ever come off.
I still have those same gloves.
And I'm still sorry,
to that one pair of hands that was only trying to save me.
- O.R.W
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LIE IN MY EULOGY
Poetry"Lie in my eulogy" is a journey through the unfiltered realities of trauma and struggle. In each verse, this collection lays bare the raw emotions tied to mental health, heartbreak, and abuse. Each poem captures the weight of unspoken pain, heavy he...
