Sleep tight with your thoughts,
Mine are killing me.
Pull up the covers,
Just to watch yourself bleed.
They must be under the weather,
Because they can't see,
That you hurt yourself to kill the pain.
And they all just leave you be.
Is it because they don't care,
Or do they just not see?
Have they all gone blind,
Or don't they care when you can't sleep?
YOU ARE READING
Mistaken
PoetryA book of poems about the LGBT, depression, selfharm, suicide, freedom, and society.
