Tuesday, December 29, 2015

THE ROTTEN

I'm not myself
Sick
I took both my hands and pried my skull open
It was covered in dark, anxious spores
Soft and weak
I wished to cut it out

I am not myself
Not myself
I spoke quiet words
But I wanted to shout
This is not me!!!!

The dark mush of my brain
Taking over
Telling me to rot 




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