To Keep Pain Off My Face.
How am I to right this?
When, the problem's me.
I don't think I can fight it.
Why can't they all see?
I didn't choose the broken,
The bitter, insane.
But here it lives within me.
A body wracked with pain.
How am i to cope with this?
When my bones should slip there place?
I'm tired of my own clenched fists,
To keep pain off my face.
This poem is about:
Me