Crawling up my skin
Blocking up my throat
His grin, finds me when I close my eyes
And that damn rope
Drifting in and out my ears
His sharp, cutting voice digs
The same fears
Somehow still manage to fracture my ribs
Stolen voice
Stolen skin
Stolen choice
He stole my chance to win
Trying to remain king of my body
But I lost that the second he put a hand on me
My destruction was witnessed by a party
People wanted to see
And who was I to deny them, right?
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Of A Suicidal Teenager
PoéziaThe dark sides of Hospitalisation, Depression, OCD, Suicidal thoughts, and more. If you are looking for a happy go lucky poem, then this is not the book for you. Get ready for a dark ride through the horrors of mental health. If you like this book...
