Loneliness eats you up like no one else.
My soul had been broken seven times.
The pitfall is too great.
I'm tired of fighting.
I twisted in pain, bruised by my own demons.
I choke, I choke, I choke, I squeeze.
I can't stand my being anymore.
I can only see myself. It's just me.
These hands are nothing more than weapons.
I have the power to hurt myself. I have the power to destroy myself.
I can kill me if I want to.
I destroyed what makes life a thing.
My fingers are slipping on the paper.
I wish I could have found the words - I only have the pain.
Something repulsive, black, dirty, dirty, narrow that twists on the tip of my pen.
I'd like to bite the apple too.
Blood on the cheeks, blood on the lips.
Inlaid under the nails.
That's all I am anyway.
It's all blood that's shaking, muddy and pulsating.
I need others to live - and yet I have no one. I am alone.
We don't hold back the night.
foreign and purple, shiny and scary.
Reigning without sharing
curls up with stars, fantasizes about a sun she will never see again.
I am at night. I'm shiny and scary.
Teeth exposed. The canine, white, bruising my lip.
I want to feel your iron on my tongue.
I only have the aftertaste of regret.
And mint toothpaste
It all starts at night - but nothing ends at dawn.
We promise a docile tomorrow, sweet lulls. We reassure ourselves in the early morning. When madness devours you
we are then a little Sisyphus, on its hill.
Roll your stone, Sisyphus.
Crush me under the weight of the rock, Sisyphus.
I wish it was a tombstone – it'll only be a second breath.
They say that death is the most definitive thing that ever happened.
Well, I'm stuck under life.
Forever.
YOU ARE READING
Losing to Myself
Poetry"no one knows how it is in your head and no one cares of it anyway you should be scared, just scream away I'd rip your heart out and lick my nails" short poems about fighting, winning and losing against our fears, our feels, ourselves.
