I wish I could stop for longer than a week,
I wish my legs weren't marked with my past failures,
I wish I didn't need to rely on other people to forget.
The lines of memories covering my body,
The burns of taunting stuck to my chest.
Will this ever go away?
Will I ever get rest?
The things I wish I could stop
Are things I never thought I could do.
Am I hurting other people?
Am I hurting you?
Days pass by like years,
Weeks so slow I barely know what month I'm in.
Am I faking this for attention?
Is this the child in me?
I'm so tired.
So very tired.
YOU ARE READING
The Song of Whispers
Поэзияa collection of poems written by me and my friends. TW: suicide, self-harm, EDs, Grooming, Rape, and topics similar. I am not responsible for anything that might happen to you during or after you read this. You have been warned.
