Death of the Romantic

Fri, 10/21/2016 - 00:31 -- Adynna


I've got ice in my veins

Fire in my heart

My head begging for a reason


Fuck these thoughts

The childish weakness

breeding doubt like rabbits


The thoughts insist persist

They pathetically beg

Needing relief 



Fucking fuck it

My stomach like boiling oil instead of butterflies


I feel them; the scars

Slowly agonizingly tearing back open

The blood oozing down like lava

This poem is about: 
My community
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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