There's blood on the floor.
There's a knock on the door.
The pain goes to my core.
What am I fighting for?
All I see is the gore.
It's because of the name "whore".
I don't want this life anymore.
The blood begins to pour.
I see the skin I tore.
My soul begins to soar.
A.N.// I'm sorry everyone. I'm just in a really depressed state. Don't worry about me, because I'm not going to harm myself. I made a promise. Anyways, thank you for reading.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry for the Pained
PoetryThis is just poetry that I've randomly written, and feel like publishing them will help or inspire others. They're all pretty short. Please, no hatful remarks.
