A poem that ended up being surprising in its brutal honesty, inspired by the search of my name entered into the googlism search engine. Also found 'daisy is always on our mines', 'daisy is a perennial weed' (astute observation) and several of 'daisy is not here.'
There is a feeling that only exists
inside the colour red
born from something that only ever
existed in my head.
I think it's train-crash tragic
that the foundations of my mind
are too fragile to hold anything
in the wreck I left behind.
Sounds of cheering stadiums
are howling from next door.
Mislaid plans and broken promises
are scattered on the floor.
I never used to be afraid
but now I worry more and more
I've gone so far out, I can't go back
to who I was before.
And I never liked her anyway.
I tortured her almost to death.
But with each dream that takes me home
I lose all of my breath.
And I never liked her anyway,
everything was coloured red.
i couldn't kill that thing inside of her
so I killed her instead.