Am I the empty nothing
With pockets turned
and pain behind my ear,
To ask and beg forgiveness
from the closed fist,
the nightmares where your ugly face
Is the putrid scum splashed on the pages
of your petty revenge, counted like fickle
Feelings of warmth in your heart;
And yet, I feel myself nothing
as punishment serves me,
tells me “you deserve it”
as nothing but luck sticks to the countless crimes
and tears you’ve left behind;
and please, this nothing empty
reward my tremors with the sound of trumpets
turned, and turned, and turned in the pitchless time
because I remember every pain,
my bones grown black mold and mush
where they were grinded and poisoned in this wealth,
class of your highest mania
but my memories don’t stick, stick, stick
they don’t carve the world through the glass
because they are stuck, stuck, stuck with me
Nothing empty is with you as you gload yourself,
the universe slips through the punishment scale
nothing and slipped and fell and failed
To give you anything, not because it isn’t cruel
because it’s cruel to me;
And like the tick, tick of pain behind my ear,
I know forgiveness is for the closed fist
rather than mine, pacifist
and Empty, I am Nothing
Ugly Child Blog 