I need something to make the pain fade.
I need to get thoughts to make the sorrow stop invading my head.
Punching myself in the leg isn't making the voices go away. Nothing is.
YOU ARE READING
The broken
PoetryThe stinging burn of the water from my fresh cuts. The hot salty liquid streaming down my red hot cheeks. The times I am in so much pain that I can't even cry anymore.
192
I need something to make the pain fade.
I need to get thoughts to make the sorrow stop invading my head.
Punching myself in the leg isn't making the voices go away. Nothing is.
