Can I Die
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Not everyone was born to get hurt and bleed, not every bone was put not to crack and break, not every breed is iron and steel, not every cut was meant to heal. So we capture those moments in ourselves of happiness and place them in crimson soked sheets. we cover ourselves from the eyes that never sees. putting up brick by brick and plaster our bodies with personas and cloths to hide our true skin, not the skin we were bone with, the skin they made us live in.
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Monsters Inside My Head
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Coherence ✔️
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How To Fathom Violet
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Silent Whispers of Dysphoria
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paracosm-delusional nightmares
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Naive Girl
Sitting on the bench Thinking about what we used to be And hopelessly imagining What we could have been Completed.Lengkap
I've always hated the saying "Time heals all wounds." Maybe in most cases that may be true. In my experience with life and pain however, time has only ever bled out the wound. The scars that the wounds left behind though, are often so deep that just looking at them becomes painful to the mind. Time only heals what you let go of. Sometimes letting go and moving on just doesn't feel possible; no matter how much time you let pass you by. These poems signify what time hasn't healed for me.
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