This is probably the most personal and real poem that I’ve ever written. As it says, I can’t explain this thing that I’ve had for years. It has a name but I don’t feel inclined to carry it around so few know and I prefer it to be like that, however, from experiences happening now with friends and myself, I feel like it’s time to write this to show that they are not alone.
Be like a toothpick,
blinding gorgeous blood from your thumb.
It’s what the you in your dumb
unforgiving, forgetting mind screams.
Do it. Something will happen .
Death in your family,
Illness like once,
Scary preying monsters
This could happen
if you don’t double check your front door.
Widows peak, get rid
No one will love you if it dominates
your sunlight freckles that smiles daily
hiding this voice. This scary voice
Switch the light three times before the loo,
incase a thief thinks a house is free to loom.
Nobody fully understands.
‘Don’t listen, nothing bad will happen’
This voice won’t be silent with other.
All in my mind is ‘click it,
Stratch it until bloodly flesh,
Keep pen there,
Don’t queue in busy times
Incase a man explodes
Just like old times’
This is uncomplete,
the story is continuing,
I can’t explain it right now
so let me tell you in good time.