There was nothing like him.
Nothing as confusing, beautiful, as him.
He was such a masterpiece.
Ripped at every edge.
Smeared with red.
He has lines of white that marked his skin.
Oh god.
He doesn't know how I love him.
Even with all his scars, he's always been a masterpiece to me.
YOU ARE READING
Sad thoughts xo
PoetryThis is a tornado of my thoughts Unorganized and just thrown out. This is who I am.
