- Books, Literature, and Writing
Staring in the mirror, the pain within.
me, the wings of my sin.
My face, a permanent frown,
Pen in my hand, I look down.
Ink all over my fingertips,
the pen, like my heart begins to drip.
I clenche my fists, as tears fall
down my face and on to my lips.
Here, I remember it all.
I know what I'm doing , no mistake
Soon the pen in my hand will break
Heart thumping, mind insane,
My eyes stralling down memory lane.
My chest, now a faster pace
as my whole life , slides down my face.
In front, myself, as clear as can be.
I now see the old me.
No room for thoughts nor regrets,
Walls, smell of stale cigarettes.
The strangest man I had ever seen,
Like he was made of plasticine.
He moves closer slow and steady,
he mumbles the words 'are you ready?'
Through his hairy lips he continues to talk,
as my mind does its walk.
Again I go back I feel afraid,
Things I wanted but never made.
I remember your words , I begin to cry
Because I was your, butterfly.
I felt your lips as you placed your kiss,
suddenly I know why Im doing this.
The man awaits to begin his trace,
in that exact same place.
The needle , the buzz and the pain on my skin.
is nothing compared to the hurt within.
I remember you again , and take a deep breath in,
and whisper 'ready' for him to begin.
Suddenly am back staring at the mirror,
my sin now looks even bigger.
Permanent souvenir of my insanity.
Because I am me, a walking travesty.