I won't admit this but I hate it here,
Within the faded lilac walls
Holding onto the whispers of demons
From 3 o'clock mornings
To 6 o'clock evenings.
The old lilac paint crumbles
As the bittersweet memories unfold
Hurling painful events
Of my 13 year old self.
The remorse fills my soul
Like the blood that use to drip down my thighs ,
Smearing my pajamas with evidence
Of the silent torment I lived with.
I hate it here
YOU ARE READING
The Unexpected
PoetryA collection of poems about my life, my feelings, my thoughts, basically about me. It's the things I don't ever speak of but write down instead. Warning: some poems may trigger you so read at caution A/N: They're not the best since I just write them...
