They warned me and I ignored, they said not to lend you a hand for the only thing I'd get in return is you pricking me with one of your harmful thorns.
I already knew I was going to bleed the moment I answered your cries, I was told you're not as sweet as you seem yet I dived into my doom head first. I didn't care about where whatever was between us was going to take me.
You hurt me and I mistook it for love, you never bothered to help patch up the wounds you created and instead let me bleed dry on my own. Never a single 'sorry'.
Part of it is my fault, really I'm the one that blocked out the noises of people who cared for me and only focused on your eyes.
I should've known a cactus never softens, I should've listened.
YOU ARE READING
Emotional Torture.
PoetryCollection of poems and pieces written about daily struggles and tackling big world problems from the eyes of a teenager. Warning: Some chapters might be triggering. Triggers include: Suicide Eating disorder Self harm
