Small red lines, placed violently
upon the most sensitive and hidden
parts of your body, but are they
so secretive?
Your closest friends know about the blood
stained stained sleeves.
But to strangers, it's just a stain.
But you know it's a stain of a receding
smile.
You avoid the hot water from the shower
from scalding your raw wrists.
Because it hurts worse than when you
inflicted them upon yourself and you don't
want to hurt unintentionally because you
know how that feels.
You don't believe that tomorrow will
be better because you've been through
so many tomorrows, that you just
stop believing.
You stopped believing.
YOU ARE READING
Infliction
PoetryThis is a collection of poems. All written by me, inspired by lots. Stay positive, love yourself. Know that tomorrow will be a new day, and let the daylight bring out the best in you.
