Literally fucked

by - 6:04:00 pm

Sometimes I sill look the photos where we were us and not me or you.

I hung my soul in the closet and I watched it become fade.

No one can criticize me like me.

I and a mirror on the ring because my reflection is my infection.

We aren't weird we are just different.

My dark circles are my sign of my slepless nights.

Boy, you have the keys of my body not of my mind.

I stitched her scars but she is still breakable.

This world is too noisy but, in this way, it can turn down the screams which are inside me.

I don't write poems but just someone's life pieces.

My blood is my ink.

You May Also Like