I blur my eyes
And the face in the mirror
Is stripped of its lies.
The seven coats of paint on the wall
Peel back to display the stone
Just like my skin around my nails
Which are bitten short and remain a dull tone.
My hair, beaten and burned till it behaves
Struggles to lift itself into sweeping waves
Tattered by wind on the stormiest days.
It holds secrets I’ll take to the grave.
My lips are torn and cracked
From November to March
When the cold is most harsh
And my teeth on my skin
Can never relax.
And the people surrounding me
Wonder what story lies behind
The tears running in obedient lines
Down my cheeks;
They wonder what’s bounding me.
And until I can learn to blur my eyes
My face will only be made up of lies.@1 year ago with 8 notes
#depressing #spilled ink #lies #poetry #mybestshit