They lay on display
Their torn and jumbled up mess of a human body sprawled on the rusted metal of train tracks
A brown severed arm, Their eyes dimmed
the overwhelming scent of blood mingled with car exhaust and warm summer night air
Crows, Maggots, and Flies
They have come to feast.
I wonder, would I just stay alive if hit by a train? Because of my disgustingly large body, would it prevent me from dying?
Would I have to suffer, a few more seconds, minutes
Hours?
Lying there in agonizing pain, maybe even seeing my own intestine strewn out?
Bones, white and poking through ragged flesh
God, I don't want it to hurt
Maybe I'm just a coward, but I don't want to feel anything anymore.
YOU ARE READING
My poems.
Poetry!! TW !! for physical/emotional ab*se, s*icide, s/h, gender dysphoria, homo/transphobia, and ED's. This is like 99% venting I'm really sorry.
