sun’s out on a sunday, but troubled times and i still haven’t made it to a better place.
there are too many faces to face and i can’t deal with the stares of their eyes.
i feel the compression from the lies that have been said straight into my dying eyes.
shit, i still haven’t cried from the pain that the past few weeks made created.
weekends spent faded, my body has been weak for so long, do you hear my creaks?
scar tissue in my inner cheeks from chewing at the flesh of me, i’ve been hungry.
scraped the bottom of the bottomless pit that houses my soul for this poem.
lost energy flows from my fingertips and i haven’t been plugged in for awhile.
stop controlling me like a child but condole me in your arms, warm and quiet.
tell me the things i don’t hear anymore, put the spark back in my old candle.
no-no i don’t have a handle on anything now, i’ve never felt so down in this lifetime.
hollowed out by the problems that accumulate in my corner, the house is cracking.
the dark house in my heart has sat dilapidated and empty for years, no new family here.
i think i’m gonna die soon, i feel the crumbling in those bones beneath my skin.
and the air is so cold in this house, hear the chattering in my yellowed teeth.
sold my soul on the housing market the other day, but the news said the bubble popped.
i guess i have nothing left to right the situations that encapsulate me.
advil and tylenol to soothe the ache that i probably created, i don’t do anything right.
beam me into the light and let me disappear from this world, i reject my body and mind.
i can’t find happiness in this lifestyle, felt abandoned from friends i once knew.
damn, i can’t just bury the hatchet and i told too many people to sleep in a casket.
i blew my gasket often, rejected the help and now my emotions took the keys to my life.
you don’t hear the haunting screams from my mouth, i’m yelling unlock my door.
trapped in the house, cries quiet as a mouse, skin itchy like a louse, just dry heaving.
shell of my former self, silver skin and blue mouth, detaching from living and breathing.
world, goodbye, world.
too weak to keep trying, dehydrated from the crying, hungry for the truth but i keep lying.
my prison has been inescapable and my death day has been set for sunday.
the lonely window shows sunlight and my smile can’t help but creep out its hell.
- Author: pfts (Pseudonym) ( Offline)
- Published: April 4th, 2024 12:41
- Comment from author about the poem: this is poem six out of seven from a collection called dependency
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 4
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