It tugs at me constantly
That nudge in the back of my mind
Reminding me
Of what I will do
When I have time
To hide
And close my door
To feel
The cool
Sting
Against my skin
And relish
In the pain
The red
Fades
And
I am marked
I run my hands
Over the skin
The bumps
That should not be there
Not like that
But
Do I regret it?
...
No
But
I am scared of the future
YOU ARE READING
Poems (collection 1.0)
Poetryplease don't read this (i laugh here, but i'm not joking). this is a relic. consider this the museum of my progression in writing. you can find the better (marginally) stuff from this one in "Poems (collection 2.0)". Thoughtful, often sad, and angr...
