Confusion rattles in my
cowering chest.
chipped blue nail polish litters
my broken fingernails.
two stretched out, black hair ties
on my skeleton wrists.
an aching remnant of religion
resides in ribcages.
baptized once, twice, three times,
yet my silky soul is still stained
by an oily grease.
purple crocs will not carry me
through this life,
my feet will eventually begin to hurt.
knees will crumble under the
tremendous weight on my shoulders.
study the lines of my face and
tell me what shapes you create as you
connect the dots of my freckles.
am I who you thought?
YOU ARE READING
I Was Once a Sunflower
PoetryThis poem collection will be about who I used to be, searching for myself, and living when I didnt want to. They are sad, this description serves as my trigger warning.
