as history turned into moldy memories,
i removed them from my retinas
in an attempt to erase them from my mind.
the pink paint bled into red
as i tore the papers off the wall.
i couldn't stand to see
the spoiled milk spilled
across my bedroom
anymore.
i'm growing up, i told myself,
i should start acting like the teenager i am.
i ripped my poisoned past
into shreds,
hoping the fire in my bones
would incinerate them.
but, when i stepped back
and looked at the empty walls
they were still stuck
behind my eyes
and haunting my heart
will i ever escape?
YOU ARE READING
maybe i'm dreaming (COMPLETED)
Poetrya sky full of poems, none of which connect (stars without constellations) this is a compilation of almost every aspect of my life in poems, as well as some fictional elements too i hope you enjoy my cemetery of secrets -lowercase is intended for sty...
