Leave me here,
in this virgin white thing--
soaking in sorrow,
drowning in grief.
Leave me here,
in this porcelain tea-cup,
with my skin bare and wet,
and my deeds not enough.
Leave me here,
in this water-filled bowl,
with my pity and shame,
and hollowed-out soul.
Leave me here,
in this pearly-white pot,
to suffer and bleed,
for my body to rot.
Leave me here,
in my pain and my gore,
awaiting the day,
i can take no more.
YOU ARE READING
seams and stitching ♡ published
Poetry"this is your kind of story. no one is the good guy-- no one is the bad guy-- the blame shifts from monster to monster and in this place everyone bares their teeth." [featured. highest ranking: #6 in poetry.]
