As the tears drip down my lashes
The result are these strawberry gashes
Long and tasteful, dripping red
Until the final one kills me dead
The one that I wish for, the one that I crave
With my pitiful attempts to dwindle my days
The attempts to kill the pain. Alone at night,
Hearing the voices is strange
I never knew, how much a persons' mind could change
How warped can one be? How emotionally scarred?
How cold can a heart be, until it turns hard?
These childish questions, that I'm bound to solve
Turning to ashes
Due to these
Strawberry
Gashes
YOU ARE READING
a cutting poem-insecutity kills
PoetryPlease don't juge me for this. Cutting isnt for attention, and im not trying to get it. This is just some stuff I write through out the day and guys gals people of the world if you need some help im here. I wont juge you. So yea, hope you enjoy
