She tried to hold herself high
Even when she was feeling low
She tried to never let her feelings show
She would always listen to others
Even if they had nothing nice to say
She took the painful words to heart
Then she made them in to art
Along her thighs were words
The paint a very dark red
The paintbrush was a razor
She had tucked under her bed
Along her arms were lines
And they weren't very straight
All because of words
That were filled with so much hate
YOU ARE READING
Letters I'll Never Send
PoetryA collection of bad poems and other writings that I can't seem to delete. If you like em, you like em, if you don't, you don't. Thanks for checking them out though. :)
