"How are you?" She asks me
I'm not so good, i think.
My own skin feels unfamiliar
my smile feels fake
my eyes feel like i'm looking through dirty glass
I'm not so good
everything feels tinted grey
my mind is busier than rush hour traffic
and my hands shake constantly
I'm not so good
everywhere i look i see my scars
my lip constantly split
my fingers twitch apprehensively
"How are you?" she asks again.
"I'm good!" and i hide the fresh marks on my legs and flash an plastic smile
YOU ARE READING
Poems
PoesíaThis isn't really a story as much as some little paragraphs/poems I've written
