The walls are screaming,
Dripping blood,
My body's on fire,
What have I done?
My eyes roll back,
I think I'm gone.
Listen close,
Do you hear my song?
I'm a mistake and we all know it.
Maybe I should start to show it.
I may be spiraling out of control,
I'm giving the walls a little show.
They really shouldn't talk to me,
It's not always the way it seems.
I'm a horrid thing, you see.
With terribly bloody fantasies.
Now my body's dripping blood,
The walls are screaming,
"What have you done?"
This time I am screaming back,
I scream until my vision goes black.
Scream and scream till it's all out,
The walls are still yelling,
And so I shout.
Louder,
Louder,
Louder.
And where is this going?
I might be crazy,
But it's the walls' doing.
Building up my anger,
I begin to pound,
Now the walls don't make a sound.
YOU ARE READING
Mistaken
PoetryA book of poems about the LGBT, depression, selfharm, suicide, freedom, and society.
