Sure, my arms are covered, my sleeves fall over the edge of my hands. People say it's because I'm weak, overs say they show my strength. My arms are littered with nail marks, claws and fangs of my own free will. The demons are hidden in every claw. Each scrape shows my messed up past. But now it's all just that, past.
(AN: if anyone is battling depression I want you to know you are not alone. If any of my feel at anytime that you need help then please, message me I need you to know that there are people out there to help you. Until then.)
YOU ARE READING
Poems And Songs
PoesíaJust poems/songs I wrote about different things I've gone through or seen others go through
