Wrong.

Tue, 08/26/2014 - 18:41 -- liz-j

Locations

99000
United States
99000
United States

The red comes in ribbons

The water stings as it carries them away

And I am soothed.

I push the metal further into my flesh,

Shaking, sobbing, ashamed,

And I feel I am paying my dues.

Left to right,

Forward and backward, 

Never pausing,

Because this is what I was meant to do.

God has a plan

And mine is to be the example

Of what never to become.

A figure of loathing, I was called.

A fake.

A dramatic.

"You don’t feel that," he said.

I tried, again, to confide.

He said, as before, “No,

You are fine.”

I agreed with him that night, saying,

"No, I don’t feel sad."

Because I feel absolutely nothing anymore.

Never will, never have.

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