deepundergroundpoetry.com

I AM THE DEAD

I've been killed here before.

A shameful name is carved on the wall,

and my blood is on the floor.

I remember fading out,

turning feeling into flavors,

on a passing storm cloud.

Hands that are always fists.

It's the only touch I get

so please beat me down.

Impervious to loss,

there's a click beneath my skull.

A tick that sounds like song.

Drowning out the words of cold empathy.

Leave me here...
Written by jaspersilence
Published
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