Carved the word "fat" into my thigh,
I can not sleep, and so I cry.
The blood it seeps into my clothes,
When will I sleep; I do not know.
I took another dose of sleep,
From the bottle where I keep
Hidden magic for my head
It separates me from the dead.
Carved the word "gone" into my arm,
Every day I see the mark,
I know the scar will never leave,
But it's too late to stay for me.
Carved the word "fine" into my head,
Maybe I can convince my friends
That I'm not broken, just afraid
Not gone for good, just need a break
-GS
YOU ARE READING
Once Upon a Rhyme
PoetryThis is not a poem, it's a cry for help This is not a poem if it can't be felt This is not a poem for you to tell This is my poem. This is my hell. This will be the end of me This is the sway of the willow tree This was the way that you looked at me...
