My Brain Is Breaking

Life is cruel to the guileless
And the hungry
To feast upon a sight for sore eyes
To bathe in salts and cuts and gentle coppers
To whisper the names of false men to the dead of knight
To dream that one day everything and one will be 
To be the fallen tree in the forest
I'm so confused and in so much pain but it spews out poems that you eat up and
I gobble your attention and praise and insults and passing glasses
And I am very tired and still sparring with those horrid British tongues
But somehow still have time to break



 

ZoeBee

VT

18 years old

More by ZoeBee

  • 1893

    It was just a fluke that I happened to see

    The ghost of a girl in 1893

    I didn't think much of her, tried to ignore

    But then she came 'round in 1894

    A spirit was not something that I had wanted

  • Papercuts

    Did you know that, when you wrote me, I was made of papercuts

    That I was ink and glue and wax but mostly, I was papercuts

    Did you know that, when you read me, I am made of memories