I'm dying slowly, and no one sees.
I suffering endlessly, and no one cares.
It doesn't matter how many scars are on my wrists,
or how many tears I shed.
Because I am not beatiful,
and I am not yet dead.
YOU ARE READING
Maybe it Will End
PoesíaWARNING TRIGGER Just a collection of poems that are written about self harm and depression. All poems written by me unless said otherwise Cover by lilydawnxx
