The way I breath is forced. Small, tight, timed inhales as to not invade your space.
Your eyes are always searching for my next mistake. Your tongue lined up with harsh snaps to my spontaneous statements.
You want to control me but I want to control myself.
YOU ARE READING
Metamorphosis
Poetry"You do not cease to exist just because I wish you to." Started: 4/3/20 Finished: 8/20/20 My 6th poetry book.
