Pestilence

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: July 15, 2018

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Submitted: July 15, 2018

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Disease

My personal apocalypse

I'd been robbed of my youth

 

14

The racing of my heart

The fear I would not wake

 

15

The facade

The pretense that I'm clinically fine

 

16

White walls

Sterile air

 

17

Vile pills

Cold needles

 

The genetics difine me

While the side effects rewrite me

The world decaying

Dripping and melting before my eyes

Still a child

No choice but to question the extent of my life

Countless nights spent hunched on the bathroom sink

While black tears drip down my throat

And my fingernails leave behind trails of pink.

 

My head's on backwards

And my stomach's inside out

There's no cure for the disease

There's no hope for me

I'm sick

And I'll never get past this.

 

My horseman is Pestilence.


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