8:33 pm, Tuesday, 16th May
take your hands away from my throat,
I'm struggling to see straight,
there are black dots drowning me in a death
of vile origins.
Take your hands away from my throat –
I'm beginning to float,
float to a wonderland far away from reality and
while my eyes are closing, I think of your venom filled eyes
because that is the last thing I see.
YOU ARE READING
dysphoria
Poetrysilent pleas from a heart that's been tainted blue, a mind that ripples in constant turmoil and a mouth that remains shut //
