Pain is Beauty: Why Am I Not Beautiful Yet?

Custom User Avatar
More by this author

Grains of rice in a row -

half now, half later -

a few carbs

my savior

from the black spots growing in my vision.

Don't feed me your words of wisdom.

I'd rather wither,

watch my bones protrude;

shiver.

Tired eyes,

thighs like crescent moons; wane,

meals; the bane

of the this sad existence.

 

This is what you made me.






Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback