Why do I even try?
I wish I didn't feel like this I wish I could trust people.
I wish I wasn't so fucked up
I wish I could love myself.
But that's not going to happen.
YOU ARE READING
The broken
PoetryThe stinging burn of the water from my fresh cuts. The hot salty liquid streaming down my red hot cheeks. The times I am in so much pain that I can't even cry anymore.
85
Why do I even try?
I wish I didn't feel like this I wish I could trust people.
I wish I wasn't so fucked up
I wish I could love myself.
But that's not going to happen.
