There is something no one really sees on me.
There is a few marks on my neck, they grow more and more,
People stared and asked me what they were and called me a slut.
They use to always look like hickeys.
The brown spots come back every time.
But yet you people think I was a sex driven whore!
I'm not. They don't even look like hickeys!
It is brown, not black or red.
You gave me hell for marks that appeared over the time of weeks.
You said that I needed to get away from fucking people.
I'm not like that! It's dead wrong.
I wanted to curl up, yet here I am alive and free.
Every time I shower, I scrub them off. Almost bleeding.
I cried in bathroom for the fact. The marks from my neck were different.
It was dead skin and it built up all the time.
"Internal moles" is what they call them.
Yet the people in the school had laughed about the fact I looked like a whore.
Yet I covered up with a hoodie, sweat shirt, even a fucking scarf!
You people have ruined my life!
I was done. But I wasn't done with life.
I exploded, and one day I threw my lunch tray up and ran away.
It was funny I laughed at this cause it was in the pass.
Yet I still cry,
Whore, slut, and die.
It hurt me. But it made me laugh at this point.
High school isn't as bad as I thought.
But it was still scary.
I felt a good feeling at the fact I made it.
But I guess it isn't the only reason I stayed.
But give us a chance.
Maybe nice people bloom from a bad pass.
But people didn't give it.
Now people are.
Thank you to every single person that gave me a chance.
I have had a lovely day now.
ВЫ ЧИТАЕТЕ
Poems I write.
ПоэзияThe poems that I have wrote when I was down. It made me cry when writing some and they were worth it. These helped me when I was down. These helped me through my life, these are also old. And I will write these everyday. If I don't them I am sorry. ...
