They tell me,
I am
alive
when I dip them in freezing water,
unsure if I was.
Poor them,
getting slashed,
when I was too afraid to go
for my
wrists.
My feather held
between them,
the red ink
resembling
blood
as I write my soul.
Fresh scratches
on my arms,
skin around
them
getting bitten off.
Restraining my
mouth from cries.
They have been
the unlikely companion
everybody speaks of.
The click
of my
camera,
the sound
of the
guitar,
holding someone tight,
or letting someone go.
I need a caress,
a hug by myself,
to point at someone,
call them
out.
But after all this,
how I wish my pain
would just dissipate.
With only, the snap of my fingers.
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YOU ARE READING
Look at me, Rain ✔️
Poetry《𝗕𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝟭 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 ~ 𝗥𝗮𝗶𝗻'𝘀 𝗠𝗲𝗿𝗰𝘆 ~ 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀》 ❁ // 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑧𝑒𝑛 𝑑𝑖𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑡𝑜𝑚𝑦 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑘 𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑢𝑔𝑒 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑟𝑢𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 // ~ Poetry Compilation. ❁ Cover by ;...
