The cut is skin deep,
So I soak the scars back in.
The water turns red.
There is no other option.
Nose deep in the glass.
Unknown eyes stare back at me.
Au contraire, they're mine.
As i clense myself,
The dark scar sticks to my skin,
And the tatto doesn't fade.
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Truth About Poetry. (Ongoing)
Poetrypoems that make me feel hope they make you feel too.
