I've drawn so many butterflies.
All different coloured wings.
The number just keeps growing.
No one can understand how much joy it can bring.
All across my arms and legs.
Sometimes on paper too.
Keeping track of how many have died and lived.
Seeing butterflies across my skin is always a great view.
No matter how many questions and looks I get.
I'll still continue drawing butterflies on my wrist.
After all it's better than scars.
I'm just happy that I can exist.
These butterflies that I house
House many names.
Some real and some fake.
It's all fun and games.
Some die, some live.
Just depends on how I feel.
But I'll keep living
Even on those hard days when I don't feel real.
YOU ARE READING
My Diary Of Poems
PoetryI have always written poems, helping express my thoughts and feelings through pretty words and now I share them with you. Some may house dark themes, so be warned.
