Colour in the rain

Why do you spin the room, and force me to the floor?
The bottle says ‘drink me’, though I know it contains your ignorance.
The ground shifts, and the quake in my bones does not disturb my reasoning.
You split me in two and try to repair me, gluing together bits of sawdust and distaste.
All I do is cough up feathers.
As the shaking subsides, I fall back into breathing; simple systems that keep me going.
I’ve found no you replacement cruxes, yet I feel the air on my skin.
Do not mistake this bow of respect for subservience.
Please do not take my kindness for weakness.
I may have built you up to a pedestal height, but I can rise to the top of the sky also.
Eat me, and I have a number of times.
Felt you in my mouth along with the cold harsh realisation of commitment.
The one armed bandit of being loved.
I am not alone because I am lonely, my solitude is there because it’s lonely at the top.
Push me down and drag my soul through the dirt if it makes a better picture to view.
Erase the parts you don’t like, and place me into the boxes your OCD tendencies have immaculately arranged.
Like a mist I shall seep out, the strong miasma that engulfs then soaked up by the rain.
Watch me come down in colours that stain your soul.

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