My cuts they bleed,
but no one sees.
My pain is real,
but I can't heal.
My blood flows down,
and spatters on the ground.
Crimson and tears,
have kept me company throughout my years.
A blade and pen,
Which one will bend,
to paper or skin?
The blood flows free,
but so does the ink.
Mixing and blurring,
My eyes watch them turning.
I'm sinking down,
I shatter all around.
Blood and ink,
they help me think.
My only escape,
but which will I take?
YOU ARE READING
Inside My Head -Short poems
PoetryCome, fellow readers, and writers. Take a seat, pour a cup of your favorite drink, sit back, relax and delve deep into the corners of this poetry collection. Including; Sonnets, Couplets, free verse and short, this book will have a variety to choose...
