15/5/2021
Tears and semen running down the drain curled up on the floor with blood spread over my face staring in the bathroom mirror yelling at my reflection telling him to get his shit together and waiting for my resurrection.
my coffin has rotted and I've started to claw my way to the surface dirt under my nails and blinding my eyes kicking my way to the surface to escape my binds.
Tied down by my mental health and chained up by these demons so foul, punching the wall and screaming at myself Tears down my face and blood on my finger tips writing my confessions on the bathroom wall with my own blood I'm brain dead because there are new scratches down these halls and I'm waiting for death to fucking call.
Blood on my bed and bleeding where I lay rope on my wrists and tape on my mouth my mental health has me captive and I don't think anyone can help I've tried to talk but it doesn't work I've cut my flesh but my body is covered in marks I'm trying but I'm slipping none wants to hear my problems so I hope there demons haunt them.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry of a foster kid
PoésieThis is a collection of poetry I made from ages 15 to 17 it's about mental health and growing up the last few years in foster care it's a journey about maturing as a kid but also learning to grow and deal with my demons in the on going battle of eve...
