Post by scatteredembers on Jun 15, 2011 15:47:18 GMT -5
The head pounds and fingers tighten,
Fleshy palms my irritation frightens.
I am red. Crescents on my skin.
And yet still you do not see,
Those words belong to me.
My mind has no sane to show,
It brands me cold and psycho.
I am crimson. A tint in my vision.
A hot poker label,
Imbedded letters enable.
I lose hope and beg that others do not see,
The frantic creature threatening to expose me.
I am burnt. Branded.
I beg that what I feel is standard,
Lest I will likely be dragged on downward.
~R
Fleshy palms my irritation frightens.
I am red. Crescents on my skin.
And yet still you do not see,
Those words belong to me.
My mind has no sane to show,
It brands me cold and psycho.
I am crimson. A tint in my vision.
A hot poker label,
Imbedded letters enable.
I lose hope and beg that others do not see,
The frantic creature threatening to expose me.
I am burnt. Branded.
I beg that what I feel is standard,
Lest I will likely be dragged on downward.
~R