I DO NO SELF HARM. THIS IS A POEM SOLELY ABOUT FEELINGS NOT ACTIONS.
All those words, Each little lie
They just make me want to die
No I don't, I don't really want death
But I'm numb, as though I'm on meth
Not always just some days
It always pays me a little visit to say
Hey, but then it goes away
Am I perfect, no
I am at a low
But it will get better
I know it will
But words are knives and often leave scars
YOU ARE READING
All My Shit Is In A Book
AléatoireI'm the creator of my own greatest disaster. I write for me a no one else. I want you all safe. Please stick with the awful writing at the start of this collection. I started writing two years ago and have developed a lot.
