The space between my ribs
Is a breeding ground for disease
Vulnerability spreads
Over pumped arteries spurting dread
And pooling in my palms with ease
My bones pried from me
Twisted up at edges where they should meet
You stuck your filthy hands inside
And laughed as a part of me died
Your fingerprints smear through my spine
Where you rattled me down past my fracture lines
And if my jaw clicks open to push you back
How can you blame me for that?
My chest cavity remains empty
Longing for a heart to bleed
Waiting for my tired eyes to see
The way bitter has made bitter of me
Veins dangle from open wound
Blood pumps over you
You look down at your hands to see what you've done
But remember you answer to none
Because this mess you've made of my insides
This crisscross map of crashing tides
Can't be your fault
So it must be I who lied
Right?
I'm dizzy from blood loss
Stitched up down and across
Gripping the edges of my broken bones
And still not safe from the stones you throw
My heart is stomped into the floor
Splinters of my skull stuck in the door
Head aching from the trauma postwar
So yes, of course, you're the victim
YOU ARE READING
Please, Disregard
PoetryAn untold story from a misplaced generation, this is teen angst at its finest. These the writings of The Suicide Notebook, or how I'd imagine them to be. It's mostly going to be in poetry form, slam or rhyming. Keep in mind that slam poetry sounds a...
