Photo by Conor Luddy on Unsplash
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Maniacally slicing the chains of the past
an autopsy of sorts, designed for setting me free
I curl my hand tightly around the glass
The blood on my palm brings the sweetest release
A palpable fear
Now becoming airborne
it’s undeniably clear
What the rope was left for
If I cut it away leaving what’s dead on the floor
The past will be past
And I won’t live there no more
About the Creator
Kelli Sheckler-Amsden
Telling stories my heart needs to tell <3 life is a journey, not a competition
If you like what you read, feel free to leave a tip, I would love some feedback
Find me on twitter @kelli7958958
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