The sound of ripping skin filled my ears,
As I tore,
And I wondered if anyone would ever,
See any beauty inside of me.
YOU ARE READING
Wilted
PoetryShe couldn't see him, But she was all he could see. Raw Poetry, by: Mae Ethlyn
Her
The sound of ripping skin filled my ears,
As I tore,
And I wondered if anyone would ever,
See any beauty inside of me.
