The World I Carry
I carry may layers
bone, blood, skin
The straits beneath my sleeves have dried
The cuts which run like rivers, the blood that’s pours like water
Fueling my body, hydrating the cracks that lie beneath my sleeves
My skin
my skin that lightens as the world turns
My that peels and dries like mud on a hardwood floor
My skin that always sags and drags across my skeleton, it darkens, it caves giving my body craters, depth and texture
My bone
It creaks, it caves
My core, they rot, they stay
All that’s left while my skin decays
All that’s left of my world lies skattered
Spreading
From one world to another
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
If you or someone you know is struggling, you are not alone.
988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline — call or text 988, 24/7. Crisis Text Line — text HELLO to 741741.
MakaylaLiska
I am a junior in high school, and an aspiring Forensic Psychologist. I have committed to Illinois Wesleyan University and I am a competitive dancer.
View all poems →▾ This Poem's Voice
Your Poem's Voice
Primarily personal/bodily experience; some philosophical abstraction about decay and worlds.
Multiple layered ideas: decomposition, physical decline, existential collapse compressed densely.
Deeply dark; decay, rot, collapse, fragmentation dominate throughout.
Volatile language; active verbs (creaks, caves, rots, peels, sags) drive intensity.
Approximately 20-25 lines; mid-length poem.
Rich metaphor and simile: blood like rivers/water, skin like dried mud, bones as core.
Pure internal lyric voice; introspective, first-person meditation on self-decay.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.