One day you will see it.
The way people push others into the lockers,
And the way they pluck the thorns of a rose
And turn something ever so
Perfect into something deadly.
The fighting i hear coming from the other room, i used
To try and stop it. Now i have realized
That it does not matter.
It is a daily argument of thorns being
Thrown back and forth.
And so what was once beautiful and innocent
Became something
That hurts.
YOU ARE READING
11:52 P.M.
Poetryfor once in her life, she had something to live for bangtan © SACCHARINEYKH
