Twisted

My lungs are constricting, my mouth is dry

My minds wavering, I'm losing track of time.

I let my head fall back, I exhale the smoke

My worlds spinning now, I'm beginning to choke.



My eyes are gazing frantically, skin so pale upon my face

I want to rip the skin off my bare back, my minds racing.

I take another hit, I can't handle this. Fuck, I'm getting sick...

I can't see straight, I can't feel my face. Why do I do this...?



I tried to sit up, I only end up falling once more

I can't even lift my gaze, I collapse to the floor.

I hear the door open, I know whats happening next

I'm not going to try to fight it, I'm to fucking twisted...

Author's Notes/Comments: 

(Febuary 27, 2007.)

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Seth Roseworth's picture

Ahh this poem is seen from the inside out. But I assure you my dear you're the furthest thing from twisted. I love the feelings though. You always know how to rhyme. I wish I could master my rhyming skills. >_> Mine come out... odd. Yours are perfect