i ache for my blade every time i look in the mirror.when the blood drips from my arms and my visions goes blurry,that is when i am accepted.yet the pain doesn't stop.if anything it becomes worse but then at least my outer appearance shows what i'm feeling inside.
because whenever i cut my skin,there is no in between.inside i am a tornado and outside i am wreck.i have accepted it,so has my blade and so has my blood.
YOU ARE READING
Inkables
Poetryhere is where the words get out,here is where i get to shout. [inkables isn't a real word so no you cannot use it in scrabble.also beware,lowercase is fully intended because it is very aesthetically pleasing.don't say i didn't warn you.]
