AUTHOR'S NOTE:
WARNING: This one is a little darker. I no longer relate to this poem as much as I used to. Here's part three.
xxxxxx
I should've done something.
Anything.
Instead, I only lie on the bed,
letting her destroy me.
My hands pinned down.
Her knees holding them.
She grabbed my neck.
She slowly tightened her grip.
Nobody even cared.
I tried to scream,
but I couldn't.
Panic attacks.
Asthma.
All because of her.
It's hard to say:
she's my sister.
"The past is in the past."
No.
It's not.
Know why?
I'm suicidal.
YOU ARE READING
A New Beginning
PoesíaIf you've seen me on Inkitt, hi. I'm back. This is my book of poems, but, as the title says, a new beginning. Follow my story through the poems I write.
