My bones creak and ache and crack
Ghost hands trace up and down my spine
Tears fall from my yellow eyes
Lies drip from my lips once more
"I'm fine
This sour soreness
This exhaustion is just
Another bout of soft malaise
That seems to last a little longer
Than the usual couple of days"
Slate skin sunken and deathly thin
Graced with veins of Violet and blue
Seem to taint my days with just
The slightest of deathly hue
Hands shake and shiver
Quake and quiver
Hungry for the slightest sliver
Of hope whether in a bottle or box
"Isn't there Anything we can give her?"
It's alright doctor, mom rarely cries,
It's only when someone of real use has died
That she seems to break from her usual reserve
But I doubt she'll loose sleep
After all It's what I deserve
YOU ARE READING
Paper girl
PoetryA collection of late night thoughts, from spills of emotion to 3am moods. Including childhood poems, Letters I never got to send, Lyrics I can't sing aloud, And miscellaneous quotes and fragments from yet to be published stories. Disclaimer: •chapt...
