i thought i was supposed
to be better.
that i would choke down happiness
and feel whole again.
instead, my leaves are dying
and i can feel my bones
slowly turning to stone
while i dance along the outline
of an empty pill bottle
that filled me with nothing.
nothing but the desire to
bury myself underneath everything i have to do
and just sleep.
sleep until i'm torn away
and forced toward everywhere i'm supposed to go.
but i don't even know if that will be enough.
the pills weren't;
why should this be?
YOU ARE READING
Feminist Rage
PoesíaA collection of poems about feminism, empowerment, and the power of change. (all poems are mine)
