The bones hold me together,
They make me stand,
Are slowly turning brittle,
Cracking one at a time.
They are worn,
And slightly torn.
They've lived a life of toil,
Now screeching,
To go back to the soil.
My muscle aches,
Because I walked extra miles.
My muscle aches,
Because I lifted all the lies.
Flesh oozes,
With cuts and bruises,
Sweating out,
The last ounce,
Of the red cold blood.
For now, I've turned purple.
I'm just a mere body,
with all altered thoughts.
Nothing of her own,
Not even her dreams
Or sorrows.
When I'm done with this existence,
I'll start by clenching my fist,
Crushing my tumb with the fingers,
And Pulling the finger tips.
Piece by piece,
I'll dismantle myself,
Crushing the bones,
And Cremating the ash
For once, then
I'll get a good night sleep.
Now, I hold the bones together,
In my crushed palms.
