You put scars on your wrist
Scars on your thighs
Scars strangely even made it to your eyes
It's know wonder they call it the crying game
Because it all begin with a single tear
YOU ARE READING
Breathe
PoetryHelp, I have done it again I have been here many times before Hurt myself again today And the worst part is there's no one else to blame Be my friend, hold me Wrap me up, unfold me I am small, and needy Warm me up and breathe me Ouch, I have lost my...
