I fall on the floor,
as I burst out the door.
Blood on my arms
from my self harms.
Overwhelmed by sadness
My eyes do cry,
as I look at the sky;
cluttered with stars,
somewhere sits Mars.
In a world of happy.
I crumble on the ground,
making no sound.
Sadness has won.
The devil's son
is here.
No mercy do I see,
to only please
myself.
In a world of hate.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry. From the broken soul.
PoetryPoetry written over a time span of over ten years. This includes some of my darkest and lightest moments and the stories of others. Most deal with topics such as suicide, depression, family, eating disorders, religion, self harm, acceptance, recover...
