Aftertaste

Aftertaste

A Poem by Mortricia

The disease in me is cultured

Manifested, hungry vulture

Nothing wrong but everything

Empty lungs can't start to sing

Thoughts that scrape my rusting skull

Telling me I'm beautiful

I'm so angry with myself

The war I wage is with my health

The fall has such a steep decline

It's not too late to change my mind

I wish I could just press rewind

I hope I am not out of time.

© 2010 Mortricia


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Added on April 5, 2010
Last Updated on April 5, 2010

Author

Mortricia
Mortricia

CO



About
Get cozy to take a journey through a rhythmic, twisting prison, I'm a metaphoricalien and writing is my mission. "Didja hear about the guy who lost his left side? He's all right now..... more..