Bare-
Empty.
Beauty.
Bones
Sharp.
Beauty.
Every time I see my hip bones.
Every time I see my collar bone.
Every time I see my ribs.
I see edges.
I see beauty.
I see waste.
Every time I feel my bones yell.
Every time I feel my organs moan.
Every time I feel like breaking.
I feel light.
I feel small.
I feel infinite.
Maybe by the time I'm a pile of dust.
You will see that something was wrong.
Yeah.
I saw the beauty in the bare-bones
Is that wrong?
YOU ARE READING
Normal is Boring
PoetryI'm weird. I'm a nerd. I'm a loser. And I am so not normal. Here's my story.
