I paint Milky Way
As I listen to the sound of waves
On my thighs
I count to ten
And ten again
By the time I hit ten thousand
My Milky Way on my thighs has
Become so real
I could lose myself in it
I draw lines on my wrist
With colourful paints
I dig the brush in
But I still can't breathe
I keep playing over
The things they said
In my head
Over and over again
Until I'm nothing but a wreck
They say
I should have thicker skin
They don't know
With words sharp enough
You can cut through anything
YOU ARE READING
Just Me And My Dignity
PoetryYou know that moment when you break and you just have so many things to say, and your pain brings out the best in you? These are those things. Honesty and raw feelings. Published and old drafts. You might have seen them somewhere.
