The suffering

Vall.Grey poetry

a woman suffering from depression and anxiety

I’m counting the pills to cast you away   I’m counting the sips to remedy   These faces of yours, they trick me into something I have forgotten, the mouth of the beast is vast and old from feathers and rough matter   They sing to me softly in a bizarre tongue I learned to despise entirely   Half of the poisoned is still my flesh And slowly inserting in the bone of mud Insidious sense of a controlling beast   I bow and I weep in silence   Do I have to lick your wounds? Do I have to be betrothed to you?   As sloth, biting my skin your essence bitterly grows underneath    Slate is your alter self Stone in the deepest ocean, my guts as food to cherish, you spit the slug out as you speak   I’m choking in the pills you offered I’m drowning…

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