The rot is subcutaneous,
it leeches out from inside.
My bones were decomposing
before any of them arrived.
So it's difficult to blame.
Was I born this way,
or was I maimed?
It's not like knowing that would change
anything
redirect what life could bring,
but would I make a different choice?
If I had a more autonomous voice...
Maybe then I would rejoice!
To be a part of all this
how could you say that to me? I have a really bad memory. He doesn't like to behave. He sifts and sieves through information I do not care about, but when it comes to everything I love, he turns into a steel trap. I still remember. The smell
Black and white pictures hang on the walls Curdling talent Secrets unsung Knuckle stains from her brawl The blood in her mind covers scribbles in oil Rip out my whimsy Poison my lungs Remains willingly toil A gift from the ocean Colorful silks Mechanical oil Magic grows sick Package me
It's never too late Your hair may be turning gray The moon shines brighter through the beauty of your age Will we really be estranged? Your love saved my life Am I not allowed to repay? I will cherish my wife Don't make me run away
You were supposed to teach me how to swim Instead you held my head underwater Salt clogged up my lungs Slowed my circulation Hands stay cold Devoid Whirlpools in my chest suck the life out of everything But my heart still fell in love Ripped from the sun Through crashing