If only the blades
Could rip me apart
Like a paper
To be wasted
Sharp blades of the scissors
Cut me into a perfect shape
For what they desire
Is to be perfect for them
Oh how much I want to cut myself
To be the perfect human
They always wanted
To cut all my flaws
YOU ARE READING
POEMS III
Poetry3rd book of poems written by me. Some of the poems are old and possibly most of them are nrewly written.
