To Me (Poetry collection)

Pink

They say, In time all wounds heal.

And they are right,

The bleeding will stop, but not allways without a fight,

But the scars we sustain in the process are all too real.

Stinging and burning in the backs of our minds,

While others don't think we mind,

All the names they call us.

All the things they do to us.

All the names we call ourselfs.

And if we told them the things, that would give them more names for us.

A name here or there doesn't matter they think,

But if they could see the fresh scars of the names scratched into our skin they would think differently.

Pink is what it is,

Such an innocent color, yet so much pain hides within.

Once a year we all wear pink to stop the thing that causes more pink.

We wear it so people will think

Mabye calling him ugly wasn't the smartest thing to do.

And mabye calling him poor for having only one shoe was just a bit cruel.