I pick at the skin around my fingers like a needle sewing through decorative fabrics.
I tear the skin off like erasing a mistake made in pencil.
I let them bleed watching intrigued, like water falling from a showerhead.
I let them hurt me like a child who hasn't learnt their lesson yet.
But I rip them off because it tells me I'm alive.
I bleed like everyone else.
I feel like everyone else.
Well... for a while anyway.
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An extract from a book i'll never write | Poetry |
PoetryJust a lonely teenager in love, struggeling with emotions and wanting the end to come sooner rather than later :( i want to love but i just dont want to hurt them if i love one then i will hurt the other. So please forgive me, i can't hold back my...
