Three words upon a page,
Battle scarred and crumpled,
The lines and broken with age,
And still they stay there, humbled.
Three words inflicting a memory,
A thought best left un-said,
A far off distant scenery,
A pre-made and empty bed.
Three words with different meanings.
What three words dominate your life?
Maybe you're one of the lucky ones,
Who live without that strife.
I love you.
You are beautiful.
I'll never leave.
You're my life.
But perhaps, like me, you falter.
Your life is out of your hands.
You were left standing at the alter,
In far off distant lands.
The words you here aren't beautiful.
They sting and ache and scar.
These words don't make you hopeful.
They bruise and dirty and marr.
You're a freak.
I hate you.
You're just worthless.
Go cut yourself.
But what about the words you use against yourself?
What about the words you press into a page?
They don't heal you either,
Just release your inner rage.
What words do you use to describe yourself?
Don't pick them in sets of three.
Pick three in sets of ones,
I'll tell you the ones killing me.
Unfinished, unloved and unwanted.
Hurt and broken and scarred.
Incomplete, imperfect and shunted.
Alone, lonely and marred.
YOU ARE READING
Screaming off the Cliff
PoesíaPoetry assembled from the very depths of a deranged mind. Trigger warning. Tragedy ensues.
