She used to sleep with knives and cutters under her bed,
Because of the monsters that's been screaming inside her head.
She went under too long and too deep,
That at one point she wanted to forget how to breathe.
Now the tables have turned and she's still alive,
Back from the dark to continue her life.
With her crown sitting on top of her head,
Now only sweet dreams dance beneath her bed.
YOU ARE READING
Drops of Poetry
PoetryDrops of Poetry It's raining outside my window Just like my emotions inside me The taste of the salty rain and sorrow Every problem falls on me like rain I catch it with my hand Turning it to rhymes and names I'm soaking wet from wher...
