Each second of you is glorious,
but each moment afterwards is utter pain,
utter disappointment.
I'm disgusted with what I've done.
The 30 glorious moments across,
50 glorious moments forward,
and a million drops of pain-
Pain that went streaming down-
in little red rain drops.
I'm disgusted.
YOU ARE READING
The Color of Blood: a poetry book
PoetryHello, this is some poetry and short stories about the many struggles I've faced with self harm, depression, abuse, anxiety, and all those lovely hatreds.
