Hungry Ghosts
Truth is, I'm terrified
Of the craggy pedestal that I've been
Living on
That threatens to pitch me into the
Salty, ebony sea
The rope is there for me to grab
To pull me back up to the
Shore
But do I dare to turn back now?
Do I dare to go so far?
I pity the buds that,
In spring, were once in full bloom
Were lush enough to nurture
At least, if need be
Now the pair have regressed to baby
Bubbles resting on my chest
Shiny, but with childish luster only
Innocent
Yet too much so in age
I thrive on the hollow pride
That drags along my hollow stomach
I flourish underneath the truth
Of my demise
In my disease, I become comfortable
Skin just right and not too
Stretched
Too tired to drag on but thus content
I am haunted by the thought
Of ever being fed
Copyright © Annalee Pierce | Year Posted 2011
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