Published in
Oct 18, 2022
Messy mess!
My soul, which I use like a draft, unreadable.
the sins that I dig up and hide in…
The shames that I lined up like marbles.
my neck feels like it’s been twisted off.
But my eyes are still up,
sometimes rolling them.
And sometimes laugh with them aloud or giggle secretly deep inside.
What if your eyes!
Hatred, in your eyes, never fades.
your eyes proudly suffocate
every color with its black.
How could you face yourself, Matilda?
How far would you go?
