The scratches
on my arms
grow longer
and longer
as I see
the faint colors
of my flesh
as I scrape
my nails
light and hard
on my skin.
The cuts
on my arms,
bleed
more and more,
as I wrap more
bandages
around myself
and wear more
long sleeve-shirts
to hide the scars.
Then the beeping,
I somehow hear
goes on and off.
The blurriness
that I saw
goes away
as I finally wake up
and see
that all I saw
were the illusions
that were.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry
PoetryJust a book of poetry that I've already written and some poems that I've recently written that I'll share. They're not in order, so warning, haha. Poetry is just where I feel like I can really be me and be real and where I can really talk. ~ ~ ~ Co...
