Those Whispers in my ears,
They seem to be crying for help.
Those screams in my head,
They beg to be set free.
Those scars on my hand,
Each of them tell a story.
Those tear stains on my face,
Each of them have had enough.
I am not born the way I am,
For I was made the way I am.
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hi yall! its been long but im back with A new poem..... yeah i only wrote one 😭😭
here is a donut for you-------> 🍩
:)
YOU ARE READING
barely attached
Poetrywhen we love, we usually love so hard that it physically pains us to even think about leaving the person we love. this is a short collection of poetry written by me. it might not be the best, but its there. (also please dont think its a book about l...
