I
I have drawn a continuous line on my skin
Scratching out the attempted virtues
Disposing of them
into a recycling bin
Where they are filtered and compressed
to the size of a tin
Converted to poison equivalent to gin
That I
oh-so-casually chug through myself
My eyes all the while begging for help
Help
that I do not accept
Poison that sticks inside as my heart cries yelp
My fickle mind
Low and high accompanying life with a sigh
At every opportunity that arises I raise my hand to form a goodbye
I will no longer ask for minimalism
when my mind travels with the girls down to PRYZM
Collecting this junk
Waking up to watch how low I have sunk
But
I
Supposedly have spent 7 years growing roots
Today counts and today I haven't given a hoot
Forgive me
Forgive the I
#selfishbitch
I
YOU ARE READING
WARNING
PoetryDo not read this if you do not want negative content in your life There are a lot of personal references in this poem. Metaphorical references, literal references, emotional. Don't hesitate to be curious. Don't hesitate to question. Do ask. No there...
