I'm starting to look yellow
(Or maybe it's the bathroom's light).
I can feel my guts swarming with air
(Or maybe it's the void of never being fed).
I feel myself grow more weary
(Or maybe it's a sign of me dying).
I'm growing too heavy to carry
(Or maybe its the weight of my wood-polished bed).
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Author:
GRJ (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: September 11th, 2023 23:37
- Comment from author about the poem: marking as 18+ for slight themes of an eating disorder.....anyways i have to sleep early for job interview #2 tomorrow. augh.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 1
Offline)
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