Why?
Why can't you see?
The blood comes from the hole in my heart, and the lines on my
wrist.
You made both,
You painted me red,
Like your own personal canvas,
Why?
YOU ARE READING
My poems
FantasyThis I just some of my poems. Don't not copy without my permission. I am serious. They are all about a heartbreak and cutting. I didn't copy any of this. I wrote all of this myself. Please do not stop at the first poem. I promise they get better tow...
