The Self Worth of an Angry Teen
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I have a skull made of glass, a heart of twigs, and a toxic mind of spikes. Anyone who attempts to pick at it slices their fingers, only to be infected with my own toxicity.
Your good natured spirit engulfed in a flame of misery, torn apart by an evil force that takes residence inside my head, a being even I am not familiar with.
Although…
I am familiar with his ways.
I am familiar with his ideals.
I am familiar with his breath on the back of my neck; he follows me from place to place.
Thought to though.
I can’t take a single step without him weighing down my mind; halting my progress towards a normal day.
I can’t have a single thought without him contaminating it.
I have eyes made of desire.
The desire to wake up without him knocking at my closet door, beckoning me with blood curdling screams to let him out.
Destroy the glass cage that keeps the monster at bay.
These days I’m numb to the screaming.
I’m numb to a lot of things.
If I can’t feel, does that make me invincible?
Their is no good inside me; their is no boasting.
Only a monster inside my head,
and we share a name.
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/7a6zg1/comment/dp7r24c?st=1Z141Z3&sh=b7fbf437
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/7a7j84/comment/dp7r6jg?st=1Z141Z3&sh=b7fbf437
EDIT: I should mention I wrote this poem for my English 12 Honors class. It was supposed to be a page long boast about ourselves, but instead I took my own twist on it.
Posted Nov 2, 2017, 12:55 AM UTC · edited
when you cut a cliché it makes a blood-curdling scream.