There are things beneath my skin,
Things that cannot get out
Things i cannot see
Through my body they move
They torment me
I scratch at them, they bleed out
I pull and rub and brush them away,
But their bodies remain
They rot into my flesh
And they burst from my arms and my face
My back and my shoulders
I can’t get rid of them
I can’t get rid of them
They have become me
I have become the Host of a colony
Of thoughts
-
Author:
H.R. Powell (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: August 23rd, 2018 13:13
- Comment from author about the poem: I have lived with severe anxiety and paranoia for a long time and the concept of things underneath my skin has haunted me for most of my life and this poem is my way of expressing this feeling.
- Category: Gothic
- Views: 11
Offline)
Comments1
Is it the thoughts are the host or the fear, maybe either or but either way its a great poem keep it up.
-Theta
Thank you Theta! In the poem I am the host to parasitic thoughts, 'I have become host of a colony of thoughts'.
- Haley
Ah ok
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