Scoreboards
By bedazzled •
Icy zigzags
down my back,
these words
are cold.
This is a story
better left
untold.
Such familiar
landscapes
they refuse
to fade.
Such expensive
prices
I never have
paid.
Dust on my 'lashes
that floats
as I blink.
Dust in my brain
helps to numb
what I think.
Thorns
in my fingers
as they're tapping
too fast.
Weights
'round my throat
as you remember me
last.
You stand
with your scoreboards
ready to rate
and I look
at myself
and am ready
to hate.