Tuesday, January 14, 2014

Grating on the Edges

It sounds as if it hurts,
makes strobing lights fail,
seizes your rhythm
and brings ones eyes to close.
Before any face could speak to me
I've shut out my feelings
and left myself with
a tundra hybrid desert
all for you to burry me in.
If I am to be my own undoing,
here it is in writing,
Self defeating in every possibility
there is simply no future.
I am not meant for this earth.
No one was meant to see me
and if they have, they've now forgotten.
I do not exist.

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