They're all leaves the stick to me the tree but fall and scatter when fall comes. They go and leave the tree alone. See it bleed, see it cry but never turn back. We grew together from this trunk how foolish of me to think you'd stick by. I wish you could see I'm falling apart. That my eye isn't connected to my skull anymore and that my blood no longer runs that. Maggots are eating away at my brain and that my intestines are rotting. How could you they don't put cameras in coffins after all
YOU ARE READING
my butterfly
Poetrypoems I write poetry is like my only escape and way to deal with shit going around in my life. Much better than cutting in my opinion so yeah they may not be the best you have been warned
