1,2,3 cuts for me
My arms love the pain and I need to see the thick liquid-
rushing out, from my veins
bringing me joy, satisfaction and relief.
I'm damaged goods, sealed perfectly and painted beautiful;
Hidden scars-
Colorful they are.
My emotions are raw, truthful;
Nothing is hidden.
What do I do to stop the pain?
Oh I don't know, maybe lie in my final resting place.
For my days seem to be few with you;
I shall take my leave, out of your life.
Why should I ignore my need for pain?
It is highly requested by my soul-
Repulsed by my conscience but demanded by me.
No one cares anyway:
If I live or die.
I'm just their burden, one that should be removed.
Good things are hard to get and these are just a few.
One would think it's easy to have the life I do.
But be a mirror for me and see my point of view;
Life is like the mafia.
Not to be played with or taken for a joke.
Still no one cares for me.
I'm damaged goods, sealed perfectly and painted beautiful;
With hidden scars and oh how colorful they are.
YOU ARE READING
Emotions
PoetryI'm just a girl who feels so many emotions due to constant events in my life😖. Never exactly sure how to feel or act and be myself, self conscious of how others see me😓. Poetry is art and art works are as calming as rain. Writing gives me peace...
