boreal hedge
all the assignments that god has missed,
he was meant to know i always wished
a whisper to confess that my tragedy is not my story;
altough i’ve now been forgotten and i know that he’s not apologetic nor sorry.
hes the motive last night i was three glasses in,
hitting my head against the wall, a place ive already been —
trying to forget about my body for i only feel the sting
the hurting in my thigh and the phone that doesnt ring.
because what torment it is to live and it hurts in all the ways
things that god has taken from me, but for the better, or so he says.
when god breaks a promise, does he suffer too?
or am i alone in my chest, with all the things that swallow me full?
/sry poems kinda ahh lately
somber falcon