I am screaming, crying.
I am slicing off my skin.
They tell me to stop.
But it releases the pain from within.
When they ask me
Why I always wear a hoodie
I tell them a lie
No one will look me in the eye.
I still want to die.
I've got it carved in my skin.
I deserve to bleed.
YOU ARE READING
Poems
PoesíaA collection of short pieces of writing/poems that I've written through the years and decided to publish. WARNING: MAY CONTAIN BRIEF/DIRECT MENTIONS OF SUICIDE OR ADDICTIONS
