She grew up a little to fast,
With sad history,
And twisted past.
She bled not just from her wrists,
But from her eyes,
Remember her history made you cry.
She cries and she bleeds,
She hurts and tries,
She tells you these horrible things.
Now she's running out of blood,
Falling to the floor,
Still wanting more.
She's got nothing left,
No pulse, no life left.
And it's societies fault.
YOU ARE READING
Poems
PoetryThe first poem i wrote for creative writing. The rest is my life and what I feel or what I think, so please don't judge. Thanks!
