If I were insane
I wouldn't like the pain
Scars on my life
Scars on my soul
Tied to these chains
I have so much to gain
Life from my strife
Now give me that knife
I revolve around
These wounds I've found
Scars on my life
Scars on my soul
This knife's run aground
On another flesh mound
It leaves it red
As good as dead.
YOU ARE READING
The Lost
PoetryThis is for those with the swollen, tired eyes. This is for those who wake up every morning and cries. This is for those who are abused at home. This is for those who feel isolated and alone. This is for those who have attempted/have committed suici...
