constellations of blood will decorate my skin,
painting red skies on porcelain
i hope you will feel horrified when you see
my brains scattered over the floor,
will you throw up all your guilt
when you can't stand watching my pain anymore?
because i don't think you're even aware
that my hands aren't the stained ones
i hope you watch the crows die poisoned
after devouring the cyanide of my guts,
i hope every fatality you brought me
will be something worse than the death of you
i hope you feel your eyes melt
and the worms
coming out your orifices,
i hope you watch me take my own life
like you took my will to live
wait,
what?
isn't that what you want?
don't make me laugh;
what's the difference between this
and how you killed me on the inside?
come on,
just relax and enjoy the show...
i guess it's funnier to watch me squirm on the floor?
... now you will have to contemplate me
while i use your blood
to redact my deathwish on dirty snow
YOU ARE READING
the beautiful side of misery ¦ pink
Poetryart is nothing more than the way we have to express how beauty looks through our eyes but art, the real, purest and most captivating form of art is finding beauty where nobody else can so i slipped through the most morbid corners of my guts to portr...
