*tw: gun and wound mention*
bullet wounds are visible
as i stand, motionless,
defenseless, broken
and it seems like everyone
takes their turn with the gun,
and shot after shot
i stand there
wondering what i did wrong
to receive all of this pain.
but in truth,
there was no gun,
only words that were spoken.
and still, the pain feels the same.
YOU ARE READING
recycled poetry
Poetry❝i wish i was writing something special, but these words have been used before and there's no originality to it at all. i'm just reusing phrases until they're worn out, like musty library books or hand-me-down clothes.❞ from ❛hand-me-down poetry❜ i...
