I whisper "The war is in my mind."
"And the wounds are on my body."
I wish I was somebody.
People tell me that my life matters.
But theres more than 7 billion people on this earth.
So do you really think my life actually matters?
I'm becoming an actress.
Smiling when I need to.
Forcing a laugh and joke.
But my body is a joke.
I poke at my fat as my mind shatters.
But I can paint a pretty picture.
My razor is my brush.
And my canvass is my wrist.
I watch my blood as it scatters.
I dig my fist into my skin.
Hoping to leave a bruise.
Hoping to feel the numbness and the pain that I deserve.
He does these things to me and says "You just got served"
But all I can do is sit in my bedroom and cry.
Begging for someone to take my life.
But I have a knife.
And 99 percent of me wants to die and dig it into my wrist and thighs.
But that 1 percent is what makes me stop.
So I can live for my friends and my family.
But my friends and my family are one of the reasons I'm like this.
But let's just let that dismiss.
Just like my existence.
YOU ARE READING
I'm Not A Rose
PoetryI'm just a girl. Well that's how people see me anyways. I'm just a girl who is a disappointment. But you see... I write poems... I make my heart flow out on paper. But sometimes that paper stays empty. And when it does that's how I feel... empty...
