[WARNING: This poem is too dark, hence the title. I wrote this when I was having a terrible migraine because of too much stress.]
Pluck out my eyes
for they are tired of seeing dreams.
Dreams of the lifeless
but, still, of breathing things.
Cut out my brain
for they run deadly weapons
in a constant loop.
Dead eyes,
they squint but not seeing,
A voice,
so small but screaming.
Kill me kill me kill me.
Stop the pounding in my head.
I beg of you,
they shout terrible things.
I see my demon,
I see a reflection.
If I hand out to you the gun,
please please please,
don't hesitate to pull the trigger.
YOU ARE READING
Dark and Beautiful
ПоэзияSometimes my thoughts and hand bleed so much poetry I can barely stop them from leaking onto the paper. But sometimes, too, my heart bleeds too much blood that I couldn't write poetry anymore.
