on mornings, when i wake up
i get overwhelmed
thinking about all the things i've got to do;
all i see is a whole ocean in front of my eyes
whenever i face another day
ribs are aching as if they were being crushed in half
below steps of lassitude and lack of motivation,
i try to drag my anatomy over this bed
around this house
but my fingers are numb...
oh wait
and so i am
will you let me repose under layers of dust
once you see how winter froze my flesh
covered on stained ice?
will you keep expecting me to go forward
and be tough
once you see i can barely stand on my own?
it shatters me
to simply exist,
i feel so uncomfortable on my own skin
and it makes me want to rip it off
until i exsanguinate all the torment out
but i force the smoke in my lungs instead
so i can just sleep for another day
the bottled rivers in my eyes don't pour
because they already forgot how to come out
but my heart
is racing
chills are swimming down my spine
while i'm throwing up the anxiety
and bleeding out the pain
i keep asking myself
why do i have to be so terrified of death?
i don't crave to die but this is hell
YOU ARE READING
the beautiful side of misery ¦ pink
Poetryart is nothing more than the way we have to express how beauty looks through our eyes but art, the real, purest and most captivating form of art is finding beauty where nobody else can so i slipped through the most morbid corners of my guts to portr...
