Every line,
Every bloody sin,
Chains of memories,
Etched in bumpy skin.
Seeing the past erased,
Of battles fought, never won,
Each scar a relic,
The fading almost done.
I fear of losing proof,
Evidence of the pain I underwent,
For when they're all gone,
I'll feel in my own skin that I'm a guest.
YOU ARE READING
Poems and Word Vomit
PoetryJust a place for me to store and save my messy thoughts that sometimes come out poetically. Mostly for me but you can read it, too. :)) Cover art drawn by me :) I didn't know what else to put as the cover so...
