The tears washed away
my innocence.
The blood dripped on my
childhood.You can hide them from
the world.
You can heal them with
ointment.But you can't cover up
my memories,From remembering what
I've done.You can't heal my
heart,From all the suffering
I've been through.I guess that's why they
call them:SCARS.
YOU ARE READING
You Think You Know
PoetryLove, Loss, Death, Cuts, Friends, Enemies. You think you know. You don't.