Pity

Carried swifly softly soundly, inside the box i call myself
taken, given, ripped apart, are the strings of my heart
strung out like the morning after, strung, and stolen, and stung
light gives way upon the gate, a new and happy day!
slowly, softly, swifly, soundly arrives the juicy beating of a tenderous stranger
once again, its carried away
leaving an empty box.
It wait and waits until the day itself will be refilled
the box does know that hatred surrounds the outside
and thrustfully, thudding thumping heart is tempest tossed back
i would feel sorry for the box i call myself, it carries a burden of shame
but i do not realize, all in all, the box i call myself— is sorry for me

Pity

mae2teeg

Marietta, United States

  • Artist
    Notes

Artist's Description

pitiful, but true and numerous

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