Guardians.
Set me free.
From this life, from the constant arguing.
It feels like fire at the pit of my stomach.
Burning all the hatred within me,
Breaking it down to depression.
Perform the surgery,
Begin the first cut.
The dissection has begun.
Lies, excuses, hatred.
Cut them off one by one like strings on a marionette.
Have the nutcrackers mouth, have a crack on my soul.
Have the jingling bells jingle me whole.
Why did I add December in this kind of poetry?
I shouldn’t have given you clues of me growing deceit.
Poetry, this is just shitty poetry.
No one else can see me.
Poetry, what kind of poetry,
Can describe me?
