Can I Die

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.