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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Personal · #2316243
I am angry, tired, sick. I am don't care if it's not good. My brain isn't good.
One of these days I will fuck off to a field.
I will scream.
I will sob.
With no one to hear it
except the bugs in the fucking dirt
and the birds in the God-damned sky
I will throw rocks
kick at the ground
rip up the dry grasses.
I will scream until my voice gives out,
blood spilling down my throat.
One of these days I will be gone
from the eyes and minds
of the world that despises me.
I am not to be remembered.
I am not to be buried.
One of these days I will run
to the rivers
and the lakes.
Swimming until my arms grow tired,
until my legs go numb and icy.
One of these days
I can rest.
Sleep without tossing and turning.
Sit without worry or aches.
Exist without all this noise.
One of these days.
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