No Contact

My words are wanted for dirty, dark-red murder
corroded arteries, cancerous thoughts
Metaphoric martyrdom
Or post-tragic stardom?
As illiterate as this understanding is-
wholly unethical in every anticipated way
why am I so goddamn
Bloodthirsty…

without ever tasting blood?

Without you leading me, my own two shaky legs must suffice
At a crossroads and the thought stings me,
which direction do I turn?
With all of three senses-

I can’t distinguish whether I am blindfolded or ear-muffed
Neither matter though.because either way I suspect it,
I’m still,
-Unable to hear you.
-Unable to let you hear me.

And no metaphor will fix this.

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About hannahjustine

This is my life story. Don't expect for me to entirely spill the beans on everything, but my life is certainly a sloppy recipe of writing, research, realizations and love. Basically, I'm learning as I go. I strive to positively impact my community, my sphere of influence. I believe that this happens only through living your life to the fullest! View all posts by hannahjustine

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