The knife leads my hand
drawing beautiful patterns on my flawed skin
everyday I look in the mirror
and wonder
what it would be like to be wanted,
loved,
flaunted.
And I envy
all those who know what it is to be "healthy"
"happy,"
"wealthy."
I wonder what it must be like to even hope for a life of light
wondering about a future that bright
I'd guess, but I haven't the slightest clue
depressed, I guess I'm glued to you
your slash still lingers in my mind,
your warmth in my palms, left behind
the knife cuts deeper, blood seeping
through skin as pale as snow.
-GS
YOU ARE READING
Doorway to Nowhere
PoetryI sleep in ashes ashes from the bed of memory please, remember me as my ashes drift away I sleep in ashes built by magic matches guilt and regret of my past's patches I sleep in ashes fire forgotten all is broken, all is rotten cracks fill the glas...
