My skin the paper, the blade my pen
I write with crimson ink then watch it flow down the drain but after the pain its all the same
It never goes away.
When I write, my pen leaves scars that never go away.
Your body is a diary where you record memories that last a lifetime, one wrong move and I cut my lifeline.
Should I?
Could I?
Would I?
These riddles in my head caused me to sever the thread...now watch me bleed into red.
YOU ARE READING
Short poems from a simple guy
Cerita PendekTo any of my readers from 'Broken' if you still exist, I've been going through some ish but fear not because more of that story will be published every Sunday from now on, during the week however poems from yours truly will be put up here because wh...
