your words -- etched on my wrist
it dripped and dried from crimson to black
if i drop on my knees
with blood pooling underneath
and ask you why you said that
you would certainly tell me you forgot
you made a hole that could never be filled up
made me stare at the ceiling; always going back
i was peter pan in a dystopian neverland
perpetually floating on the mid-air, never growing up
