I am a girl
with thorns growing on my palms,
they wanted to hold my hand
saying they won't let go
while there I stood balling my hands into a fist on my side,
thorns digging into my skin,
when I denied, their heart broke
but what they didn't know was,
that I was trying to save them,
though my flesh was bleeding,
I was falling,
I needed someone to hold on to me
but in the end, I couldn't be selfish.
- she reasoned when he said, 'You can talk to me.'
YOU ARE READING
THE GIRL WHO SPOKE POETRY
PoetryThe thing about pain is, it makes you question.. what makes you human? ____________ **Not cliche, I repeat, Not cliche, WARNING, not cliche**
