They say they’ll understand.
They say they’ll be near.
They say they’ll hold me hand.
But
They don’t see my bleeding ears.
They get infected by lies,
Always an open wound.
They don’t see the
pain
Forced by simple white words.
I sit in a desk,
With an adult at my side
And kids blinding my eyes.
Yet,
Here I am
with a burning, sharpening
Knife
Yearning to see the last of a life
Expel it’s claustrophobic cage.
They still release those words
Whist my ears bleed
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"we all change when you think about it. We're all diffrent people, all throught our lifes. And that's ok; that's good. You gotta keep moving so long as you remember all the people you that you used to be" - Matt Smith's final speech as the doctor.
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Telling's from the heart
PoetrySo here are a collection of poems inspired by stories whispered or stories told. Here are to those going through tough times and to get better. Here are to those that are at their peak and to keep up their good work. ***PLEASE IGNORE THE LETTERS THA...
