Starve
Skin and bones
Skin and bones
Should I be skin and bones?
I am.
I am.
And flesh
This flesh is a prison.
Peel me, pluck out my
Black organs and satiate
This emptiness,
This devastation that engulfs me.
Thunder, rain, and now a flash of
Lightening illumines my mismatched
Figure that I hate.
Hate.
Tell me you mean well and
Perhaps I’ll rise from this
Darkness or perhaps I’ll
Descend further into the abyss
Because I don’t believe you.
Copyright © Catelyn Meeker | Year Posted 2022
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment