Bloody red on bright white snow
covering things that we don't know
hiding what I don't want to say
and concealing everything from the light of day;
but the stain of blood burns so bright
it's not so hard to notice a fight
the slices and scars on a wrist
from when the blades and skin once kissed
scarlet droplets, warm, they fall
a crimson sign to warn us all.
YOU ARE READING
A Heart with Empty Pages
PoetryThe poems I write to help me deal with life =] ****Trigger warning: Some of this poetry addresses themes surrounding depression, self-harm, suicide, eating disorders, and sexual assault.
