how can you die so much
that once the sky cried out for you
and now you drown in what you drink
that once you were a library of light and sound
but now you are a flat voice that says flat words
that what once was a bursting pair of eyes
has been reduced to a walking corpse
who ever thought that you must be alive to be living?
YOU ARE READING
the view through the cracks
Poetryyou do not know me I have been split open and now I can be seen these are the places where the light gets in
