Perhaps this euphoria
Will pass and I can walk on
Glass like I used to
Why happiness scares
Me I don't know but I'd
Rather know
Than find out about the bad
Parts after the bruises
Set in, praying they
Are just ink from my blue pen.
But it is not
And I rather think a bone is
Broken and it only be a bruise
Then mistake a bullet hole
For a paper cut.
-a.w
YOU ARE READING
Onism
PoetryOnism: the frustration of being stuck in one body that inhabits only one place at a time PS IF YOU COPY ANY OF MY WORK I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND MAKE YOU WISH YOU WERE NEVER BORN! I hope you enjoy reading my awful little pieces of literature!
