"I Am a Ladybug"
By Elissa Rosenthal
Your fingers are beetles diving underneath my skin
and killing my appetite. A hand of putrid flesh laced in
maggot infested regret.
Can I dive into the trash and live there?
The home of the ego yelling like a
ladybug-
as menacing.
Do I wish to be?
Kill my thoughts slowly and I might as well be dead.
I am dead
and numb.
Who am I? What is this place?
Why do I feel like no one?
A hand stokes my back like a banker visiting his gold.
I am not gold.
I am a ladybug trying
my best to be my best.
I smell the leaves but cannot see them.
All I see is a plastic lining.
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