Poems from Cyanidemoonpie
I am not the violent type, no ? Can you not see?
I see her last breath in her flat chest as she heaves.
In the end , why could you not...
I am starved for affection.
It's almost self-infliction.
Probe me for my thought pattern , it's a mess you see.
I am a bundle of nerves...
I put on a Facade like it's makeup .
That mirror image haunts me.
I'm selling cosmetics for living , and it daunts me.
I want to be...