— moon.
they stare me down,
lips curled back in a frown,
like upon me is written murder,
on my crown.
if moonlight had a switch,
i would turn it off.
so it would calm my heart
for i won't have to see them scoff.
they lied to me,
saying world was a freedom's dove.
they pushed me onto my knees,
all brainwashed and muffled any helping hand in a tight glove,
and now here i burn and ash,
calling and asking the moon,
"where is love?"
YOU ARE READING
swevens of vernorexia
Poetryi shall bloom flowers of love in your heart, so you may bleed petals for blood when i leave.
