I am sick.

I cry.

I cut.

I scream.

I dream.

I lie.

I die.

I burn.

I yearn.

I lay.

I stay.

I gash.

I slash.

I slice.

I entice.

I am sick.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Girlisinpieces

1 year ago

The evil it spread like a fever aheadIt was night when you died, my fireflyWhat could I have said to raise you from the dead?Oh could I be the sky on the Fourth of July?Well you do enough talkMy little hawk, why do you cry?Tell me what did you learn from the Tillamook burn?Or the Fourth of July?We're all gonna dieSitting at the bed with the halo at your headWas it all a disguise, like Junior HighWhere everything was fiction, future, and predictionNow, where am I?My fading supplyDid you get enough love, my little doveWhy do you cry?And I'm sorry I left, but it was for the bestThough it never felt rightMy little VersaillesThe hospital asked should the body be castBefore I say goodbye, my star in the skySuch a funny thought to wrap you up in clothDo you find it all right, my dragonfly?Shall we look at the moon, my little loonWhy do you cry?Make the most of your life, while it is rifeWhile it is lightWell you do enough talkMy little hawk, why do you cry?Tell me what did you learn from the Tillamook burn?Or the Fourth of July?We're all gonna dieWe're all gonna dieWe're all gonna dieWe're all gonna dieWe're all gonna dieWe're all gonna dieWe're all gonna dieWe're all gonna die

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