(stand still)

don’t make

me cry

when you

haven’t even

opened

your mouth

(to sing)

.

don’t wound

my skin

with guitar

strings as a

garrotte

straight away

(i’m dying)

.

don’t break

my lungs

with poison

when you’re

trying to

make me

(feel strong)

.

don’t make

me confused

and weak

as my soul

gains audacity

and epiphany

(don’t say i’m wrong.)

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s