Dead Inside
I can feel the maggots crawling inside and out of my organs,
Listen closely; put your ear to my navel
The whispers you hear is not of food churning
But of my insides slowly corroding away by the power of mold and creepy-crawlies
Constantly I stitch my skin anew
My lip is now forever askew.
My heart barley beats, lungs hardly creak
My mind wanders greatly, when not pulled back to this pain I feel within me
I dress in my daisy best
Hoping to inspire all the other fellow desperates
I tell my tale everyday
I am despised, turned away, shunned from the rest.
Is it the dead inside of me, which makes you flee?
Am I tiresome with my disparaging tale?
My body grows horns, my tongue splits in two,
Happy no more, I ravage on you
You taste so bony, with the nothing inside your vein
So I must spit you out, deserving no more than a stain.
Copyright © Taylor Hunter | Year Posted 2014
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