I tore open every inch of my body
As if i could find answers
Inside little red lines
Littered upon my wrist.
YOU ARE READING
Dear Someone. (I Hope You Read This.)
Poesíasometimes a child becomes too damaged to fix.
III. The Self Destruction XVI
I tore open every inch of my body
As if i could find answers
Inside little red lines
Littered upon my wrist.
