Bleeding


I wake up early today,
shaking and trembling
like a falling tree.
Throws on a mask,
of water with eyes
tight so shut.
Smacking with wood
lips that would be.
Maybe.
White picket lips
so shut and so
loud-spoken.
Never outspoken.
I ignore it,
keeping quiet,
letting white letters
do all the talking.
Still shaking,
like an earthquake beneath me.
Except it's just me.
All me.
Now follow me
down that bleeding
trapdoor.

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