Whispers
Whispers follow me,
Whispers of things both said and unsaid.
Is it true?
The things they whisper?
What does it matter, it hurts all the same.
The words still sting,
The shame still lingers.
I would give up.
But that's not an option
So instead I cut
And cut and cut
I mark my pain on my wrists,
But I only hurt on the inside.
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da da da dun... :)
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Reflections Of An Amateur
PoetryJust some things i came up with... doubtlessly amateur but still solely a reflection of my inner thoughts and conflicts :)
