A question burns inside my skull.
It reaches my heart to crack it open.
Why do you have so much power over me?
One message and I'm in pieces.
Just tiny broken bits of glass.
I won't lay on the floor for you.
My pieces grace every place they rest.
Each of them are fucking special.
Do I grace your soul?
Because I want to know my power over you.
If I have any at all.
I want to watch your hands shake.
Your fingers tremble to slide across the screen.
The tears that want to well up in your eyes.
My name going through you head.
Over and over again until they are pictures.
Until you are pieces on the floor.
Are we feeling the same?
Because it burns so hot in here.
About the Creator
Rabbit
I see the world a little differently than most. Even at a young age I was writing down what I saw but never sharing it with a soul until now. I'm choosing love over fear.
Comments (2)
Emotional shrapnel! Keep writing!
Oof, this hit me so hard! I loved your poem!