Pins are being spiked into my skin,
One by one into each open gash,
I have made on myself.
How can a good thing come out of such excruciating pain?
The gashes bleed out dripping, seeping, draining,
The pigment from my already translucent skin,
Staining the pavement for all to see.
Will I gain anything from giving this gift that slowly kills me?
As the color drains from my world,
The greyscale of the storm sets in,
And I tremble in my captivating corpse.
What do I do to keep myself distracted from the constant reminders of you?
I brace myself for the tsunami of emotion
Throw up my invisible shield an bolt in the other direction,
Hiding from the nightmare I can't escape.
Omg Dev that is really good. You are so great at writing poetry. I wish my poetry was like yours
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