Poems 😻

Bones of flesh and flesh from bones
devoid of empathy or souls
made for me, yet not personal
strange and alien, wildly familiar

Scared of crying
tired of trying
to take a life would suffice
but it's not a place of dying

Stretching beyond all known limits
anything to take control
steeping onto peoples' spirits
anything to reach the goal

Can't sit still
yet still can't walk
not until it's dim, not dark
Trees to sticks and hills to stones
bones of flesh, and flesh from bones

Pierce the world,
inside her mind,
inner selves unfold:
messy, empty, big and bold.

Empathy's volumous,
or perhaps just a pint,
keep at your toes.
You have more for your foes.

Cry as you will,
but she's always right,
take the sweet pill.
Then for you, she will kill.

See what they do,
out of oneself, out of spite,
because when you're feeling blue,
she's the victim in that too.