Were you lying when you said you were lonely,
When you said you were sick.
Hmm,
Perpetuate the lie,
Please, please, please.
Don't tell me what you really think,
Or let me know what I mean.
Useless, a burden, brain damaged-
Stop, stop, stop!
In my head stop!
The truth is brief and achy,
The truth it lasts.
Lasts, and lasts, and kills.
Swift and unburdened,
It wraps my head in a breath woven sack in the night.
Does it's damage and-
Stop, stop, stop it!
In my flesh stop!
It itches it rumbles,
It stirs and grumbles!
Please..
Remove the tumor.
The truth is infected,
Force feed me yarn and,
Cure me.
YOU ARE READING
Laugh with a Draft
PoetryI wrote a poem, I sometimes do that. __ But in finality and purity, these words mean so much- yet I'm blinded by their insincerity. All this is, is a dishonest fold of revelation, self-accusation, and starvation. And so much more, more to be rimmed...
