Eating Glass

Light never seemed to touch that well,
flow so well that my fantasy comes to play
with reality,
leaving the dust behind
I twaddle to the sun,
walking through the desert you
could never tell that I had no soul,
no angel face but demon eyes,
watching the world pass by,
I am a shadow of myself,
trying to keep this feeling under content,
your made of version of me,
I sit in the middle of the sand,
eating glass,
feeling the cuts
after cut,
I choke on blood and lay there....
feeling my heart beat get dimmer,
and dimmer,
till I almost think I see God...
almost

The End

0 comments about this poem Feed