Every other morning I wake up
With blood on my hands
Why couldn't I be more careful?!
When did I do this?
Have I killed someone important to me?
But who?
Who was the victim of my negligence this time?
What did I say wrong? Did I say too much?
I still hear the screams of agony.
About twice a week I wake to find my own new set of wounds.
They often match my previous ones well.
Sometimes parallel gashes, sometimes a perfect reflection.
I don't question them.
I'm don't know who gave them to me.
But I'm sure I deserved them.
I still exhale my screams of agony.
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A/N
this is about the power of careless words and how much they can hurt whether well intentioned or not
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Nociception & Nonsensical Metaphors
PoetryPretty writings! Mostly poetry about being in love (but theres other stuff too ^_^) Hope you like!! (2015)
