There's blood on the bathroom floor again,my ma would be ashamed
My head's the one that causes the scene but my soul is always blamed
Three weeks older,three weeks clean
I thought this time I might just win
But once again
I find myself digging holes into my skin
No amount of promises
can make or break the fight
Do not believe that I am well
from the sonnets that I write
The world is for majority,
not everyone will thrive
We're pushed so far we go against our instincts to survive.
-[s]
YOU ARE READING
r e m n a n t s
Poesíabook two; the prequel to dystopia,the explanation of what happened before the girl learnt to love herself @pulcist was my earlier account,dystopia is available on there. all rights reserved @dulcist
