Flesh thin as paper
veins bluish-purple in the light
the warmth of the skin calls out to me
as I stare at it in awe
mapping out the trailing veins
with soft fingers
a light touch like a feather
But would the scars be worth it
would I be able to face the pain
would the blood make me squeamish
I don't know the answer
and to be honest
it scares me
what I could do to myself without thinking
something the old me never would have done
wouldn't have considered it before
now I'm not so sure
and I'm left frightened
afraid to speak a single word
for if they knew
they'd call me crazy
wouldn't understand
I'd be treated differently
and I'm afriad that that would kill me
YOU ARE READING
With Broken Wings (2013)
Poetry"Take these broken wings and learn to fly again." This is my own personal story of overcoming my demons and my grief. I define my recovery. ι'ℓℓ вє уσυя ѕнσυℓ∂єя тσ cяу ση, уσυя яσcк ωнєη уσυ'яє ησт ѕтяσηg ι'ℓℓ вє уσυя нєαят ωнєη ιт'ѕ вяσкєη, му α...
