Why do we make others cry?
Why do we hate?
Why do self-mutilate?
Why do we break?
Why do we fall?
Why do we shove?
Why do we try to forget it all?
Why do we burn, cut, bruise, or scar ourselves?
Why do we kill each other on the inside?
Why do we die?
Oh, yeah.
We do it because someone told us to.
[2/26/2018 EDIT: These all suck and are pretty horrible, but it starts to pick up at around Twelve in the Mourning, I'm sorry for your pain.]
YOU ARE READING
burning roses
Poetry[Previously called "A Thousand Thoughts Like Shattered Glass"] These are poems that I write in an attempt to cope and I write them hoping that they will help not only me, but other people who read them too. I'd love to hear what you think of them...
