sandpaper smooths
my crumpled parchment-thin skin
and all the crevices that have
carved themselves
into my shattered b o n e s.
sandpaper smooths
my broken exterior--
but not without
inflicting h a r m.
and thought it hurts,
i don't care about the
fleeting p a i n.
because i chose this.
it's meant to be this way.
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YOU ARE READING
ESOTERIC PHILOSOPHIES
Poetry-thoughts in the form of little rivulets that part from the undulating river of my cryptic mind in a poetic jumble of words- ~ e s o t e r i c p h i l o s o p h i e s ~ ©Aneet, August 2015 lowercase intended
