this is a poem I attempted to write, anyway. there is a message I want to get across but I just don't know how to do it.
This burning sensation
twists inside my stomach
it clamps onto my heart and
seeps through my skin into
my aura. Sweet fuses singe
my soul like messy fingerprints
in a gaping, open wound
my blood on your fingertips
And you cut me with your words
and infect the wound.
You take my intent and hold it hostage,
replacing it with yours.
Your version of me. And I
don't like her
she is little more than a cellaphane
face with a plastered on smile.
feigned ecstacy drips through my pores
you're stolen me, strangled my inspiration
left my spirit in the darkness chained to the
wall of hopelessness
and my blood is still warm on your fingertips
* I really wish I could get the point of this across better than I do. But anyway, suggestions are welcome. I would love to be able to make this less cliche.*
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