The Empty Pipe Of Filth

Flesh grew under a thin sheet of skin, bubbling with the passion to be, and to conquer. I failed. I Got up.

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Mock me. Despise me.

Today is your good day. One day it will be mine. I am a beast of mockery now; you treat me like a mule. I'll use my nails to carve your face, and my blood to paint it. My breath will dry every wet part of it to make you feel human. I may be too vulnerable to say all that I said and you may smirk as much you like, but when I spend my nights all blue, and you with your flashy tart, I learn how to endure and smile, while you learn to learn. Though I may be an uncivilized animal but I know what I can become. I stand under the sun and feel the scars that it traces on my back. I see the burns on my beloved's face. I see his pretty face. You want me to come join your league, so I can be a star. But all I know is the sapling in me, which was caressed by some weary hands. They nurtured me and taught me well. If I become a wolf; too wild, they'll kiss me and be mine. You'll fear me and pull a spear through my heart.

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What I have been is lovingly made, what you've been is a hollow mass, wound on itself. You're an empty pipe of filth. You rush water through yourself to remove the dirt, but what you do not know is that, it isn't under the skin you see but under the skin you hide, and can’t even see yourself.

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