how pathetic

that the pinnacle of
my life thus far
could be described
like thank you cards
nothing i can achieve
i cannot own

and swollen are
my feelings towards you
itching for a
diagnosis
wanting to be sick
because that means
i can be fixed

so scribble gently
on my body
notes that fill me
falling, falling
failing me the clock
that never moves

digitize
so there’s no error
still i live
my life in terror
worrying
i can’t change what i’ve done

 

 

 

 

Angela Bachmann

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