One.
Two.
Three.
I can hear it.
Four .
Five.
Six.
I can see it.
Seven.
Eight.
Nine.
The blood flows down.
Ten.
Eleven..
Twelve.
Here we go again.
"Does it hurt?"
Swallow the dreadful poems and feelings.
Swallow your breath.
Stop breathing.
It will be okay.
Don't cry.
Does it hurt?
YOU ARE READING
poems
Poésiesome of these poems I made. some of them i didn't. when it says-own made then I made it when it says-made by ____ then someone else made it.
