Scars are not just skin that was a wound,
That was created by drawing with blood and silver.
But are the embodiment of our emotions,
Emotions that overflow like the ocean during a storm.
The scar upon your arm is not just overflowing emotions that got to much,
To much for your sanity.
But beautiful morbid art,
It is the art of the kids in the dark,
The kids who are forgotten.
Some try,
They try to scream that they are not okay.
That they are drowning,
Drowning from all the horrendous emotional pain,
That is worse than the cruciatus curse,
Thrown at you by 100 men.
They had to endure this curse through the years,
Cast by the pompous mortals,
That were either blind to what they were doing or just did not care.
YOU ARE READING
Life Is But A Never Ending Virulent Cycle
PoesieJust some poetry I wrote please read it through and tell me what you all think
