Something is rotting deep inside of me,
something eating me,
consuming my marrow and ingurgitating my blood.
It sickens me to a painful extent,
It bludgeons my limbic system,
leaving it capricious and mercurial.
It is like an acid, different to the one I feel in my throat,
it mindlessly dissolves me,
It is a heaviness that pulverises my soul.
Surgery cannot remove it,
Neither can the endless slits of my fragile shell that I hope will drain the venom,
My rind is slowly peeled away, decorticated.
leaving me vulnerable and empty,
inside and out.
not yet a corpse
but still, I rot.
How do I give this sickness a name?
What is my diagnosis?
Maybe it is girlhood,
maybe it is my hormones,
or maybe, just maybe
it's me.
Note- I wrote this poem about a deep sense of something inside myself that doesn't feel right. It seems to be common among teenage girls like myself, so maybe it is just girlhood and our emotions or maybe it's something deeper that we all seem to struggle with.
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