5-what day is it-17
I'm a ghost,
I've parted from the sidewalks I knew,
And I shed skin,
Like scales,
Flaky, white, scarred,
Skin,
And left the pieces to rot with the dandelions.
It kills me to see it go,
But I've seen the change,
And it seemingly happened without my awareness of it at all.
The events smear like lipstick on my neck,
In little reminders
Of why we're wired to learn,
As humans.
Mistake-
What a waste of a word,
What a waste of a good time.
Don't ruin it,
Let it simmer out,
Even if it burns you,
When you touch the edges.
There's a stillness, a quiet kind of victory
In the acts of Before,
That push the same direction
During the After.
Cheating is an art,
But you were stupid,
And you can let your words taste metallic nicotine,
Because they're rising to the ceiling
Still hanging in the air.
If I'm lightheaded enough,
And you drip down my nose,
Maybe I won't want to love you.
I could talk to my mom about it,
But since when will that ever be an option?
I just feel maybe families talk,
But I'm forgetting she won't mean anything she says and I don't know why I'd put myself through that.
I question why anyone does.
And after all,
She's been waiting for me to drift all the way out,
Cut the rope and swim with the tide,
And she's said it.
Home sweet home.
But I'm not sure what home feels like,
And if it's connected to love,
I've lost sight of it.
Let the waters sink me instead.
I feel anger,
But worse.
Like take anger
And give it crack,
And a few more demons,
That's me.
Every object is a test of willpower,
Because I can be real with you
And say I'd break anything,
Or anyone,
But myself.
Somehow,
Stopped being an option-
Like isn't this already an internal thing?
Influence is strong,
And I float,
Maybe I'm not sure why
I'm doing this.
Fuck everything.
Fuck you.
Fuck my life.
You remind me of why I shouldn't trust,
But oh god,
I don't want to stop this..
Your attempts are desperate,
And I'm better off alone,
I always am.
Oh how goddamn stupid I am,
For loving.
I try not to care
But I give a shit about you,
And you didn't even know what it was worth.
- (m.m)
YOU ARE READING
Self Deception
PoetryPoetry 2017 And if I burn out in a fit of psychosis, remember me as a young god, with that smile made of daggers, even if I was the most dangerous thing you could've touched. Perhaps all that danger comes from the multiple personalities, but all I...
