bombarded from all sides
inside, outside, on the line
I stuck my head in there
and it gets sliced through like a lemon peel
the knife only grazes me, not sharp enough
to cut off the entire head as I’m not Elizabethan Queen
now I’m writhing in spasms
like some Black Mamba that constantly
dares to spit malicious venom
who’s going to be under attack?
it’s always me
as if the immune system was attacking its own body
without a shield to protect me from the worst outcome
‘help me! help me!’ I shout
leaving only small sharp shards of pity
when no one wants to be
next to me
as if everyone wanted to put me in a cage
and observe
always inappropriate reaction
to the scrutinised lack of mercy
there is no right response to this
only regret
that they
don’t know much
even with me around
serving them everything on a plate
too bad
they already have one full
---
Thank you for reading!
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About the Creator
Mescaline Brisset
if it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
so you want to be a writer? – Charles Bukowski
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