Dehydrated.
These last few hours were exaggerated because you imagine a world without me.
Turn around for a couple seconds and I might slip out of your fingers.
Relapse words to repeat what other people brought.
You don't want me but the thought of me seems nice.
I might as well spit out blood because my body seems too dehydrated to gather water.
You don't need me but the thought of being wanted is nice.
Dilute colors to clean my skin from sins, no matter how much you wash me; I am never enough for redemption.
Being parched is not the same for the brink of death, because its your fault your body refuse the treatment provided in the beginning.
These last few minutes will change your life, please don't think of me differently.
I will always be the same person, just a different body.
Dehydration at its finest.
YOU ARE READING
Out Of Order
PoetryPerturbed. Anxiety awaits those who can't distinguish between actions or emotions, therefore never implying what she thought was important. Animosity. Apart from her balancing on the tight rope, resentment tipped her over and down she goes. Deep int...
