Written 11/06/18
Thousands of thoughts
smudged into paper, so thin.
Ink isn't the only thing bleeding tonight.
I look for meaning in the letters
sinking into this book.
I look for meaning in the blood
I'm pounding into the wall.
Sometimes you can't help the stains,
is all I can think.
Will you hold it against me
if I can't hold myself together?
Will I hold it against me?
v.e.s.
YOU ARE READING
Cardboard Lungs
Poetry"Demons floating in my morning cereal." "Ink isn't the only thing bleeding tonight." A collection of my poetry. *I do not promote self harm or any other negative coping skills. My poetry is my outlet for preventing those actions in my own life, so I...
