1 reason why
I am the rot beguiling the saccharine summer hue
I am the self in selfish sorrow, sullying the morning dew
Sickened with the mortal blips of emotion
To fall with the fragility of flesh hipped erosion
Hipped bone beneath browned bandage
Honed the hand hither, 'ncase fickle flesh cannot manage
T'stand aground the mortal vantage
Health t'sickness, worn to wear, not to manage, thy
Breath be dragged'n rancid acid, lipped from the dazed haze of exhaustion
She who had not a gun to brandish, but the naval blade o'self-famish
She who chose to awake, who awoke'n self-loathing
Whose body is irate with the dawned dam break of bile
T'overflow mine own organs, and hinder the words of hungered mind
Breaking the tide of the thrum drum pendulum heart
Shalt th'tounge twist rue th'bile duct of recovery
Drool the drivel of a mere reason 'why?'
And retract the bile of thy sickened mind.
I am to drool the drivel, of love from human kind
Im so tired'f this mortal mortuary
In place of mortal mind.
I am the mind that threatens to die.
And i am the mind, prepared to fight.
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