My wrists used to be clean and bare
There used to be no lines there
One day the pain was too much
And I created a crutch
I created a painting in red
My wrists bled
It was enough to get rid of the pain
But I had nothing to gain
The bullying got worse
I was steered off course
I went down the path of red
My wrists bled
I thought the lines were pretty
Others thought they were ugly
So I decided to paint my whole wrist red
Now I am dead
YOU ARE READING
Depressing Poetry
PoetryI wrote a depressing poem and I wanted to share. I might write more so those will be here too (Wattpad deleted my first description of this book so yeah)
