TW : mention of neglect & self harm
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bloody knuckles through the wall,
bloody knuckles in the hall,
the faint drip, dripping of blood pouring from the wound,
a soft coo to soothe the flu you’re faking in the bathroom.
a soft,
small sob,
the tile cold.
an angry huff,
swipe at the tears,
a harsh stream of water,
first red — flowing clear.
clear and simple, red and sinful, the stinging pain and tight closed eyes,
“why did you do this?! just.. why?!” she speaks,
but it’s not love.
“i didn’t mean to, mom,” they say, shaking with fear.
she shakes her head, turning back,
“you know it breaks my heart”
but she doesn’t mean it,
they lock themself away, hiding in the closet,
“why me?”
why, me.
YOU ARE READING
the poems from the heart.
Poetryi write from the heart, words spill out as i type mindlessly, i love to write, and if you're like me, or even not at all. enjoy the words i share, and find love in mine.
