I never plant these contracts
and fertilize their soil
because marriage proposals
and traveling promises
can't seem to reach me.
I feel as if my taste
has withered within
my angular mouth,
I find no logic
in fighting that hunger.
Punishments lash out,
hands begin to scar,
yet I cannot stop myself
from hurting who I am.
I am afraid of dismissing
the truthful stares
and feigning all this time.
I really do care and I need
to input my action;
I just don't know
how to formalize the words.
Somebody train and prepare
my heart for the frights and trains
that I must jump onto,
before the world dissipates
and I board too slowly.
