Chapter 23: perfectionism

bloodredroses | poetryWords: 801

soft tunes

playing a joke on me,

back to the roots

make a fool out of me.

I'm back to where I started,

or at least that's what it feels like.

why does my mirror look at me

like it can't recognize me?

I need a cure, to help me endure,

catch a train, run away

I wanna be gone, in another place.

shivers, like lightning bolts

striking through me,

at the same pace

as countless teardrops -

I'm running out of tissues.

I'm teary eyed

I'm watching,

bloodshot eyes

I'm coughing.

terrified

a thousand times,

stop thinking

I'm overthinking,

but it always starts

all over again.

~

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hello, thanks for reading! <3

it's been a little while, but I so hope you liked this poem, even though it's a sad piece (but somehow I always like the sad ones best).

Let me know your thoughts in the comments! <3

xo, S🌹❤️