Waiting for the wolves

And I will sit here,
in an empty room,
with the window open,
for the wolves to come,
to tear my silky dress,
to rip the plastic tendons from my face,
but when they do,
I’ll still put this crown made from my broken heart on my head

It’s not fair,
why do I always get the rotten ones?
“You’re pretty, you’re nice, don’t worry somebody will love you”
but I waited so long,
that waiting seemed pointless,
a scratch upon my wrist,
a tear in my eye,
a rope around my throat,
I just wanted to die,
because I always got the rotten ones,
and the rotten ones got my heart,
and now I’m left with an empty hole,
that now even the sun can infiltrate

but they do look,
all the rotten ones,
never the good ones,
so I wear paper bags over my head,
and smeared makeup,
a torn dress,
because this is who I am to them,
nothing special,
nothing good,
nothing worth pursuing,
so I sit in this empty room,
by the window,
watching the wolves come for me,
watching their hungry mouths,
but I’m not scared,
because I don’t have a heart,
but I do have a tear,
a tear that falls,
and splashes into a butterfly,
and flies away,
I’m already dead inside,
waiting for the rotten ones to devour me,
because this is all I am,
nothing special,
nothing good,
nothing worth pursuing,
a woman to a paper doll………

Waiting for the wolves

kisstheweak666

My Town, Australia

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Artwork Comments

  • TheWanderingBoo
  • vadimir27moises
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