A bulging wound, a scar made intentionally
they call it art or rebellious ways,
but for me its just a way of reminiscing,
I embedded my skin with the black ink
because they distracted me from overthinking
they made looking scars bearable and somewhat admirable
but the eyes will only judge
whether its a painting at the roadside,
a victim under scrutiny, a nervous kid,
a beautiful girl, a harmless hobby,
even the tattoo on my wrist.
What an interesting thing it is.
-She said, as he continued tracing her wrists, absentmindedly.
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**
