her mind was like an empty book.
she wrote and wrote and wrote
but it only occupied too much of her thoughts
so she erased them
but it only left marks
so she rewrote them
but it only looked as damaged as it was
so she tore the pages
and left her cuts,
in her fingers,
her palms
and her heart
having to know she had to keep
to herself what she wanted to say
so she left it
hanging plain
like an empty book
that it had always been
-isabella
YOU ARE READING
endings
Poetrythis book is composed of poems written mostly by me // borrowed poems have credits to sources and respectful owners
