WhEn PuSh CoMeS tO sHoVe
Sigh, once again, another poem. I know, I know. How I hate poetry yet I have written it so much lately. Again, this one is like the last one... not exactly how I want it to look on here. But feel free to find it on fictionpress too ^_^ ( beyond.time ) And yes it is morbid, don't you just love it!
You know, I’m the one that looks
The other way. I’m the one that
Sings in the rain. I’m the one you
Don’t see. I’m the one that never
Speaks.
I look in the mirror – day and
Night. Touching and peeling,
Ripping and digging through layers
Of skin and muscle and bone. Yet
Each day I come anew, with a smiling
Face when I walk in the room.
Chip away my nails
And rub off my toes. File off my ears,
My fingers and nose. Break off my mouth;
I don’t need it now.
Gouge out my eyes and throw
Them on the
Ground.
I refuse to see.
I bet you didn’t know
That was me. I bet you’d never guess
What I hid under that mask.
Standing next to that pile of
Flesh, grinning from ear to –
Well, you get the idea.
I feel so light, without that mess.
Light as a feather or even better.
For it is only at night, when I’m all
Alone, that I let my true self really show.
Maybe someday I’ll let you see.
I’ll let you see,
My inner workings,
The Real
Me.
- this layout was made by simple layouts.
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