I am not of your design or your failed attempts
A breath worth taking yet on exhale won't come back
I am not lying in the path of your destruction
Nor still bleeding from open wounds like heroin tracks
I am beyond your nasty grip around my life's organs
Your savage artist's bloody pen poised atop my canvas
Oozing my copper scented essence where once blank
Survivor of surgically extracting you from my anus
Remodeled and rehabilitated
Reconnected and resuscitated
Redrafted and reevaluated
I am so much more than your design
I am your wildest dreams defined.
08282018
©WWW.NWALKSALADY.BLOGSPOT.COM
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
ONCE UPON A TIME
OFTEN TIMES I WONDER WHERE TIME GOES WHEN IT FLIES WHAT HAPPENS TO THE STRINGS OF THE HEART WHEN CUT WHOSE TURN IS IT TO BRING BACK TH...
No comments:
Post a Comment