roadkill

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


Everytime I close my eyes I picture my wrist slit. I see my life draining out of me like the blood rushing from the new cuts. Why do I picture this? Maybe because I feel as if I dont belong. That everytime someone looks at me, they see some disgusting pig! When I eat, they think that I should stop, and maybe I should stop eating. When I smell bad, people must think I smell bad. Or when I talk or walk, or assert myself into a line, they must try and avoid me. Like I'm road kill in the middle of the road. Cars avoiding me, my rotting smell filling up their vehicle. My stomach wide open for everyone to see, to laugh at. My guts everywhere. Waiting for vultures to come by and pick me up to carry me home. Home. Maybe home is heaven or hell. Or maybe just in the ground. But home is somewhere that I dont bother anyone anymore.


Submitted: October 23, 2020

© Copyright 2020 stayanyomous. All rights reserved.

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