My Poetry


Don’t think you’re just
Gonna
Site there
Breathing the
Stale stillness
In the air,
As I stand here and
Unstitch my seems…

You better inhale
With caution
These words I speak,
Because that nasty smell I
Reek of-
Is honesty.

I’m ripping off Band-Aids
Using my words to
Paint pictures of my
Escapades.
Retelling stories of
Battles I’ve been through,
The many deaths I’ve survived,
And
Times I’ve been revived.

You know,
My wounds still cry blood-
Heavy and
Steady
And
Dark-
Covering you in the
Resounding crimson
Of my
Echo.

I spread myself like
A tan-
But you’ll feel me like
A sunburn-
As I expose myself through
This hole in my ozone,
Te breath in this microphone-
My heart,
Plugged into my mouth,
Amplified by my
Voice.

This is-
MY POETRY.

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