Last night, my arms hurt
and they haven't done that in a while,
It's normally my stomach,
my throat, my tongue, burning up in bile.
Tonight, my core burns
to distract me from this mess,
distastefully empty,
a shadow of the feeling,
as I try to make myself less.
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.
