My Brain Is Breaking

Life is cruel to the guileless
And the hungry
To feast upon a sight for sore eyes
To bathe in salts and cuts and gentle coppers
To whisper the names of false men to the dead of knight
To dream that one day everything and one will be 
To be the fallen tree in the forest
I'm so confused and in so much pain but it spews out poems that you eat up and
I gobble your attention and praise and insults and passing glasses
And I am very tired and still sparring with those horrid British tongues
But somehow still have time to break



 

ZoeBee

VT

19 years old

More by ZoeBee

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    But then she came 'round in 1894

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  • Papercuts

    Did you know that, when you wrote me, I was made of papercuts

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