you walk into the bathroom
and you stare at yourself
and sneer with disgust
until you look up to meet your eyes
and the pain that rested in those orbs
was a pain that not even your mother
could fix
a pain that your therapist couldn't fix
you were broken
and that's okay
YOU ARE READING
black roses painted red.
Poetrythis is a book that i have poured my heart, soul and all my vulnerabilities into. thank you for being my home and holding my heart when no one else did. i hope when you read this that you can connect with me and the others who have read this, i hope...
