that's it.
nothing but
blood blood blood.
and each will turn into scabs
which will eventually fade into scars
then marking my body as the very embodiment of my internal trauma and external horror.
then finally it's done.
my arms hurt.
they hurt
so bad
YOU ARE READING
the ruin of my soul~ third collection of poetry
Poetrythe third edition. a different approach a new found story poems from my heart words from my soul.
