11/02/24 (this is an important date to me for reasons)
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Drawing
When I was young, I was told not to draw on my arms
I could've been poisoned by the black liquid
So I stopped, thinking the habit would leave on its own
The years passed by like an old film
Days flipping to weeks flipping to months
But the tendency never left
Until even colours danced across my skin
And nothing ever happened
I was never poisoned, nor hurt in any way
These days, as a teenager
I still draw all over myself
I turned out fine before, so I'll turn out fine again
I tell myself it's okay, it's harmless
The pens never hurt me in the end
Except now my pen is a sharp silver tip
And the only colour I draw with
Is red.
YOU ARE READING
Letters To No One
PoetryA poetry/journal book for me so I can get my feelings onto somewhere and not drown in them :D TW: implied suicidal thoughts, body dysmorphia, and possibly others (you've been warned) Don't let other opinions alter your reality ;) Published: Jul 28...
