The Rain On Monday

Written words are the only thing my mind can find ease in.


87. Skeleton

Skeleton below my flesh wants to be me,

Skeleton inside my head wants to eat me.

The bone whispers to my brain all it's secrets,

and keeping with me the taste of my regrets.

All the girls only hurt me, though I knew they just

wanted to use me, asking me how I kept my figure,

confused as to what they see, so different from

what I see.

Skeleton, you deceive me, tell me everything I know

I can't be,

Skeleton, you should have stayed undercover, and

hidden away because you're not me.

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