deepundergroundpoetry.com

Red Red Ruby

As though the wizard of oz,
they think sitting behind ribcage
and skull prevents them from being;
or worse, found.

The heart, brain, and spirit cannot be
healed. Unless the two left both provide
said help.

I am Dorothy, and within my thundering
mass I remain the madness, the one of
garish news.

How am I to be helped? When the latest
addition of me is rotten, (by sweets, I'm sure),
the cracks in my itty bitty head swell like balloons and
my chest heaves, ( like stones), each thing
tinging my skin yellow as they protrude
and stretch.

Bricks.
Written by jadielue (Jade.)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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