Obsessed

a poem

I don’t feel fervently- for you, these days you can call me names, color them with aggression, vent your spleen, but do move on, you have a life I don’t expect miracles- from me, these days you can try injecting them, scream them, they won’t penetrate, I have added layers of miseries under my olive skin I don’t smile emptily, these days, I will peel the sheets covering your sanctimonious self, hand them back to you Do you see- I have picked up pieces you are still busy mocking? I have flown away but you still find sadistic pleasure in my broken flight? Let me help you- you are obsessed and I am free © M.D.B.

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