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Fingernails dirtied by digging my own skin, warm crimson staining.
Mirror staring, lipstick smudged across my cheek, hair covering my dull eyes.
As frequent I have tried to create perfection, I end up a deformed monster.
Parts jointed, stitched with care, falling apart.
Pure white sheets covering me.
Tell me, which thread will not fall loose?
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YOU ARE READING
Lady Lobotomy, a poetry collection 𓆩♱𓆪
PoesiA poetry collection for everyone who has always felt like this world doesn't fit a soul like theirs. For the ones that have strugled, for the sick, for the mad.
