Society Spoken,
And Nobody Cares,
That he is the one with scars near his hands,
He cries in his room,
Clutching the knife,
Wonder why he is the one with the fight,
Nobody cares,
About the sad bleeding boys,
Who hide their scars and eat like they're dead,
So think about the poor dying men,
Who smile at you,
And know that they want to be dead, too.
YOU ARE READING
Maybe it Will End
PoetryWARNING TRIGGER Just a collection of poems that are written about self harm and depression. All poems written by me unless said otherwise Cover by lilydawnxx
