Don’t Read Me Happy Poems
Daffodils
And pretty skies
Are sickening.
The innocent sweetness
Of your words
Stings my eyes.
Fingertips ache
Under the massive weight
Of each page that’s laden
With shallow depths,
Inscriptions of beauty.
.
I want wounding blows
To my head
Like the death of a dream
And the end of glowing stars
That were your
Last living hope.
Disasters like paper-cuts,
Epitomes of human existence,
Steel cages that seek birds,
Fresh open wounds of our
Tragic consciousness.
.
I’m sick of pretence,
Your happy endings and
Upbeat notes.
I detest the lights
That you pretend shine bright
In all our dark corridors.
Posted May 22, 2022, 6:02 AM UTC
"I want wounding blows
To my head
Like the death of a dream" is fucking depressing. it flipped my heart
Always glad to make you feel something strong! Appreciate your comment