Her darkest hours reside in wanting to be like everyone else.
The poor girl doesn't seem to understand she is perfect the way she is.
She calls for help in the middle of the night
She woke up in a fright,
Why can't anyone understand Her?
She looks down,
One cut,
Two cut
Three cut,
Four cut,
She watches the blood drip to the floor
Help me, she says silently,
Help me please...
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Author:
EmoQueen (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: August 31st, 2017 23:35
- Comment from author about the poem: This poem indicates what I used to go through.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 14
Offline)
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