Bleached Bones

This silence is broken
            and I consider all the voices
in my head, just don't know if they're mine to answer,
                                    wonder if my fragmented self
            should even bother to collect  pieces
of what are my bleached bones,

stripped bare of the pulp of my emotion- colorless
      I'm  left in this labyrinth
                            of twisted blades and petrified years.
The dead do not bleed
        so there will be no trail of blood to follow me,
but you many find
                            a solitary tear.

Leave it there, it may be the last of me you find.

Author notes

I do not know exactly where this came from but it almost like I am purging the past and then, burning it to the ground.

 

art by Djoe