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Poetry

Here I churn out my guts for everyone's pleasure, trying to make pain tangible. Trying to make feelings comprehensible. Trying to be somthing.

act one, scene one

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by Beegorl

by Beegorl

Silver in my chest

It would hurt less

Than the thoughts that try to become coherent

But utterly fail

But perhaps

I prefer that to the numb sadness

Due to spontaneous memories

Of good times

That were all fake and empty.

What is love?

Is it leeching off of everyone In your wake, eating them up like the waves to the sand?

Is it telling them? Texting them from miles away, but never making an effort.

You will selfishly consume what is not rightfully yours, with a smile on your face

No one feels bad for you.

But, sure

Play the victim.

You were casted, only becuase you pretended to love her so much.

You fooled the child.

You fooled me.

Not anymore.