Pages of words that mean nothing
against the red of blood that's drawing
its parallels of contrast against
my alabaster skin...
And the pictures etched in black-
mosaic lines that curve and track
the moments I no longer hold within.
My temple and my journal.
The vessel of my soul I've yet to conquer,
can you blame me when I rage against these walls?
I'm suffocating in the darkness
while the light is caving in-
Take a pill for every issue
til I feel like Eminem.
Lying here with my choices,
haven't been able to stop these voices...
Someone or something just get me the hell out of here.
About the Creator
Logan Stanislaw
Writer, Artist, Singer, Ordained in all 50 states, Jewelry maker, Designer, Painter, Lover of the Arts and Life. AuDHD
Everyone is an artist, don't be afraid to explore your passions.
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.