Today I am clothed in the finest of threads,
Jeweled, pampered, ungritted.
My hands show no sign of labour,
My body no sign of movement.
My mind has been exercised to know nothing but a role to play.
My heart reprogrammed to think with my brain.
My brain reprogrammed to think with the zipper on the dress I wear.
I can't wash my hands of dirt so I cover it all with make-up and nail polish, in hopes they aren't touched.
I sit front row as a doll in the auction box waiting to be sold, played with, and sent back once finished.
I have no peace of mind knowing that a piece of my mind is chipped after every remodel I endure.
I am only bare to the world when I am being remodeled.
I am lost when I wear that dress.
I am trapped under the makeup painted on my scars.
I'm just a thing to break and not cry out and even though I scream silently in my mind it's not acceptable.
I am to be thrown, drowned, pulled apart, stabbed, chewed, and forgotten right after, and I am to stay there until found and thrown away once more.
YOU ARE READING
Melancholy Poetry
PoetryThis book is just for poems of mines. I just poetically portray my feelings and share them with whomever wants to care. These are all my thoughts, whether happy or sad or plain out mad. I have no set update times but I guess whatever feelings I want...
