i dont want to stop
dont know how
even when i sleep
all i can dream of
is death
is the pain
is the blood
and im sorry
im sorry for who i am
for what i think
for what i do
im sorry for hurting
i am
so i apologise in the only way i know
a droplet hits the ground
and another
i figure
if i can loose enough of myself
i might become beautiful
if i punish myself
i might be forgiven
if i stop living
i
i might be loved
YOU ARE READING
Truly,
PoesiaThis, in case you were wondering, is a collection and record of the spontaneous poems and written pieces I write, for me. I use writing to channel a large part of my emotions, and the pieces you may read are a consequence of this. The reason I share...
