The blade that sliced his wrist
Was his best friend.
And the scars that where left
Marked the end.
The end of the innocent boy,
Scared and lonely.
He watched the blood drop while he whispered,
If only if only.
If only he'd told someone his pain
But instead he found the blade
So now he has the marks.
The marks that show that he made it through it.
If only someone told him
That he wouldn't be able to do it.
YOU ARE READING
Random Poems
PoesiaThese are just some of the poems that I've written. Read them or don't. Doesn't really matter.
