poetry

The Old Me



The Old Me


I’m sitting right in front of me.
I left myself to watch my back.
In charge of damage control.
Unable to break my neck.

Years and years of purposeless crying.
Slowly breathing, like you’re slowly dying.
Becoming more and more of a mess.
One toe out of bed and regress.

The mirror was never kind.
It must have seen that I was blind.
Recurring, repulsive rituals.
The infinitude universe of the mind.

The future has a crack.
Seeing yourself while looking back.
Crawling, screaming, left behind.
Lost in a false memory.
Success declined.

There is nowhere better.
All alone in this together.
There is nothing worse.
A witch to lift a curse!

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Vincent van Zandvoort
Vincent van Zandvoort

Vincent van Zandvoort is a writer of Poetry, Inspirational Words, Prose & Short Fiction. Science Fiction - Fantasy - Supernatural - Thriller


Poetry / Prose
Poetry / Prose

Poetry / Prose

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