ive shot myself in the foot
and my blood spreads
like the grief that comes with forgiveness
an exhale instead of a strike of lightening.
and what i am left with-
out the understanding of hurt
a constant thunderstorm above my heart
you ask me, what’s so heavy:
i dont feel human.
i am a body
a body
a body
i await my bleeding confessions.
i lag myself around. i drag my hands behind. i eat and eat and eat and eat
