What's behind door one?
Door 2?
Door 3?
A pane of glass staring through.
Nothing more, nothing less.
Nothing less, nothing more.
Glued, fastened, stapled,
Stapled.
To reality, me to my skin, the ceaseless quarrel conquers.
opening too many doors too quickly,
now every waking moment is death.
Plastic?
Paper.
PAPER!
Plastic..?
I don't.
I don't.
I don't.
I DON'T.
Deserve to feel like this.
Singing is distress,
Joking, is screaming for help heard to none.
Closure is out of reach and grasp,
Reborn burning down to crisp ash.
Sleep.
Sleep sleep.
Unwind.
Calm.
Breathe.
Look at her,
Think of her,
Let go,
Sleep.
Paste on, tack on, paste on,
Peel, release, peel, release,
Calm.
Still.
When they are cut,
Don't cry.
Your wishes will be answered soon,
My dear Alice.
YOU ARE READING
1. Memories, For, When I Am. (Being edited 2024)
PoetryHi we're the Valkyrie System. These are a compilation of events, thoughts, thank yous, and emotions from early life and high school career. Everything is told through poems, unless its letters to someone I used to love. You can believe me, stand wit...
