Bright red
Sliding down my legs
Flowing from my thighs
As I remember how to cry
Sharp stings
Peppering my skin
Kissing down my arms
While I try to stay calm
I am basically worthless
Don't even know what a use is
My parents are more than disappointed
And my friends are embarrassed to be called that
If they saw my scars
Would they run or laugh?
Or tell me there's not enough?
What do I even deserve?
Did I go too far?
Should I stop now?
Was that too much?
Did I do too much?
So exhausted that I overslept
Somehow messed up making the bed
One hour in, I almost faint
Collapse on the floor, right back to sleep
The wall's made friends with my head
And so has the wooden floor now
I can feel the gentle oozing
Not blood, just hemoid juices
Did I go too far?
Should I stop now?
Was that too much?
Did I do too much?
YOU ARE READING
Thoughts to Poems
PoetryWriting whatever I'm thinking about as poetry, which hopefully explains the stupid title. Keep in mind, all of these will be as trash as the one I made for the cover. Some of these will be really specific. Just ignore that.
