I can't bear it anymore.
So to rid my pain, I force it to pour out with my blood.
I write on my hand and up my arm.
Cheat notes.
Except to death.
With a razor as my pen.
I write up my arm.
I draw lines and my pain flys away.
It's only a few mistakes.
It's like a countdown.
But I don't know how many numbers are left 'till zero.
YOU ARE READING
Personification
Poetry//3rd Place Arctic Awards// Through poetry, this book expresses different mental illnesses, emotions and discoveries of a teenage mind. 'No amount of body lotion or perfume could cover up the memory of his smell on my weakened, scarred skin, And no...
