It's the scars from the people we never expected that sting the most.
The people who we thought would never bear a knife that stab our backs the hardest.
And our friendships we thought meant something were ruined and are memories, a type of ghost.
It's like our pain is their spring harvest.
Names we were called cut deep, but scars from betrayal last forever.
She is trying to swim but the words drown her in suicidal thoughts and pain.
She realizes she was wrong when they would stick together.
What do the hurters, the bullies expecting to gain?
~Evyn Gallant
YOU ARE READING
Beauty in Cursive
PoetryLetters form words, words form sentences, sentences form paragraphs and paragraphs write a story. Even the small things matter. Because without the small things in life that everyone forgets, what kind of story would we have? This book will be fi...
