I stand in the shower and let the water wash the tears away
If I close my eyes tight enough,
I can pretend I'm just standing in the rain
I wrapped my arms around myself in an attempt to keep this mess inside
But instead it kept pouring out
And so everything I say is lies
I'm fine and okay
It was a good day
I'm smiling
I promise
I pick up my shiny silver escape
And use it to set me free
Temporary or not
I can't take this pain
So I write poetry on my arms
And go to sleep.
YOU ARE READING
Isabelle's Poetry Journal (a continuation of Homesick Angel)
PoetryMy name is Isabelle I am 15 years old (not my real age.) I am a "Homesick Angel" at least that's what I'm told I am called the people like me are called the people who are depressed suicidal empty numb those people they're just trying to go home T...
