I want there to be less of me, I've made such a mess of me,
I'm not sure how I've become this way, but this appears it's here to stay;
Tearing myself so carefully, shedding my skin so delicately,
I feel I'm a work in progress, seeing how long I can cause this distress
Before giving up as I always seem to do, but for once I want to see this thing through.
To tear down the walls of myself, to slowly peck away at my own health,
A slow bitter end with no closure, deflating delicately as the heart rate gets slower
Until it stops, never to start again, my head's a bit fucked, but I'll listen to my brain.
YOU ARE READING
An Amalgamation of Words
PoetryI'm almost as bad at writing descriptions as I am at writing poems, but at least I tried. Sharing my inner turmoil, one poorly worded sentence at a time.
