Take my ribs
and open me a crack,
hear them crinkle and creak
like a door whose hinges are rusty,
peel back the muscles and tissues
and stick your head inside.
Tell me,
what do you see?
All I hear is a
tick tick tick tick tick,
what happened to the tock?
Reach inside —
go ahead, I don't mind.
Tell me what you find
hidden underneath the ashes,
don't disturb the layers of dust —
they'll be my own personal candy
when I split open like a pinata.
Don't talk too loud,
your voice might echo
inside the empty hole of me.
YOU ARE READING
destruction
PoetryShe set out to destroy herself, piece by piece she fall apart until the remains were too scattered and maybe she should've stopped from lighting herself on fire but why would she, when she had a lighter and the world around her was a tank filled wit...
