A spine twisting and twisting into knots of worry,
A nail scratching and scratching against the skin,
it turns bloody.
Teeth chewing and chewing on a busted lip,
Hair weaving into knots,
it turns sticky.
The knife twisting and burning in the wound,
Paralyzed by strings of stress and fear,
it turns to stone.
My heart is pounding, rushing blood to my head,
My vision darkens as I grow faint,
it all turns black.
A nail scratching and scratching against the skin,
it turns bloody.
Teeth chewing and chewing on a busted lip,
Hair weaving into knots,
it turns sticky.
The knife twisting and burning in the wound,
Paralyzed by strings of stress and fear,
it turns to stone.
My heart is pounding, rushing blood to my head,
My vision darkens as I grow faint,
it all turns black.
-
Author:
R (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: May 24th, 2023 18:10
- Comment from author about the poem: This poem means to me that I am struggling within my own body. As if I am a prisoner and my flesh is the prison.
- Category: Sad
- Views: 2
Offline)
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