Across the hall, it taunts me.
In the drawer, it haunts me.
I walk away, but it wants me.
I try to fight it, but it wants to flaunt me.
It wants to let everybody see
just how horrible it is to be me.
Scars on my body will surely have that effect.
I'm not depressed, messed up, or crazy. I'm just not perfect/
Because the razor haunts me.
It sits in the drawer, out of sight.
But never out of mind. If only I had that might.
YOU ARE READING
Random Poem Stories
PoetryThis book is a bunch of random poems I made out of boredom. Some make a story, but some are just poems... I also sometimes will make poems for people, about people... so yeah.
