My tears water down the blood
The shower washes it away
My life needs to be purged
My eyes scream with pain
As does my wrists
Purging my blood is the only way
I see fit to deal with is
My cuts are my wounds that I love
I love my scars
I love the pain
I hate the misery
I hate the feeling of joy
I get when I purge my life's red water
YOU ARE READING
Poetry of the Disturbed
PoetryTeenage Anxiety... Teenage Depression... But what happens when its a male... What happens he can't admit it... Because of his gender... The worst thing of it all... He's diagnosed with Schizoeffective disorder... The feelings are just...
