the bugs that eat me alive,
are nibbling at the parts of
my brain where love was
supposed to grow,
leaving none for myself.
i hoped and i prayed
that one day the hole in my
heart would be filled with
a feeling so rare, that some
spend their whole
lives searching for it.
but instead my body was
filled with the maggots
that burrowed themselves
in the layers of cold flesh
that rotted in the blades
of grass of an ever-greening
forest. when they find me,
i am alive but i have died
years ago in the shrivelling
spaces of my brain and my
heart where love never grew
because nobody ever taught
me the difference between
flowers and weeds.
YOU ARE READING
Among The Wildflowers
Poetrythe weeds of thoughts that have taken over my mind and put into words to the best of my ability. this is a call to nature and all that is. beauty in art, art in beauty. check out 'The Rose and Her Thorns.' ••• poetry collection explicit language a...
