Everyone thinks so highly of me
everyone's lips painted hues of hero
But don't recocgnize the color of a bruise
Painted on my thighs
A new way to die
I'm not broken
I desire things I can't really have
I'll ruin them somehow I feel
They crumble in my hands like rolling sand
Rolling waves on the shoreline
how to love myself fully
YOU ARE READING
Mother's Dont Cry
PoetryA collection of my poetry, thoughts, feelings, etc. read at your own risk.
