My feet are in the underbrush,
my head is in the sky
I'm choking on the clouds and doctor's don't seem to know why
Sometimes illness likes to make a home deep inside the brain,
Stealing sleep and numbing all my thoughts with novocaine
Pretty pill prescriptions convince me I'm alright
but past prozac placebos I'm just worn out from the fight
I peel my skin like wrapping paper,hoping to restart
These poems are self sacrifice,don't fucking call them art.
YOU ARE READING
r e m n a n t s
Puisibook two; the prequel to dystopia,the explanation of what happened before the girl learnt to love herself @pulcist was my earlier account,dystopia is available on there. all rights reserved @dulcist
