Dark Eye,
I can see myself
Inside of me.
The hole is growing.
Can I touch it?
My finger could go through,
Inside my brain,
Through the hole.
Black Eyeball,
Where's my Iris,
Where's the Sclera. . .
I can see myself.
Can I close it?
The window can only
See darkness.
No more me.
Open Eyes,
I can feel electricity
Buzzing within me.
The hole has consumed me.
YOU ARE READING
The Shape of Me
PoetryMy poems are like my diary, documenting all of my smallest and most meaningless thoughts - from break-ups to grief to bizarre experiences. I know I've taken a break from my stories, but just stick with me while I focus on different things.
