They tell me.
They tell me I'm beautiful
They tell me I'm thin
They tell me I'm fun
Yet here I am
Drowning in their fucking lies.
Knowing they're wrong
I take my blade
and drag it across scarred flesh
Maybe if they would have told the truth
I might not be gone forever
YOU ARE READING
Through the Heart
PoetryI suffer from depression. These poems are my thoughts, turned into beauty.
