Gliding over the skin, once, many years ago pale and clear.
No longer clear, now littered with scars, and blood.
Blood, dripping from the skin.
Dripping down onto the tile, once a clean white, now tainted with blood.
Blood, caused by the words of those that said they cared.
Blood, brought on by a blade.
Blood, that was supposed to be an escape.
Blood, caused by the hatred of the world.
One can only be push so far before they need to cope, after all.
YOU ARE READING
Angst Poems
شِعرTrigger warning for self harm and suicide. Possible others to be added.
