that rush you felt
when the world was
crushing you down the
ground you’re supposed
to be standing on
how it brought you to
hell and back
worse, perhaps
it would not be the same
if people didn't come up to me
and said “you’re condemned by god”
it would have been better
if i told them “hail satan”
and left them the way
they left me
it would have been
fucking easier
but i didn’t.
so they broke me
when i was already
shattered on the ground
along with the dust
it was the kind of pain
that’s beyond recovery
YOU ARE READING
Beneath The World
Poetrya melancholic born writer who once turned to self-destruction for comfort.
