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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2258362-Meatgrinder
by k.
Rated: GC · Poetry · Dark · #2258362
Feeling trapped in my own skin
Butcher's slab.
Fatty white meat.
I want it split
violently
like a smashed pomegranate.

Why would there exist a creature that hates itself?

The viscera, the extra space.
Dough-padded, safely insulated.
Stupid in its raw existence.
Grossly overextending boundaries.
Hatred. Rage.

Why does a blood-filled body
feel as though a cage?

© Copyright 2021 k. (silencedogood9 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2258362-Meatgrinder