Thu, 04/04/2019 - 23:54 -- Cullan

A year ago as I wept and cried.

I felt depressed. I wanted to die.

2 bruises here and 2 bruises there

A cut on my leg, covered with air.

My lip was cut; My heart was crushed

My head was sore; My face was flushed.

I never felt this way before

I was so fucking sore.


Early August, When it began

Threatened my life; Because she can

I called her mean, I called her trash

She hit me, kicked me, and continued to thrash

I wished her dark; I wished her gloom

I wished her death and wished her doom

She got her fist, slammed in my face

I was dizzy, my head’s in space

I have thought about revenge

There’s no way I can avenge 

I cut myself for 3 months straight

I was at the end, I sealed my fate

I wimped out, as I always do

T.W.M, here’s a massive “Fuck you”

From me to you, I always cared

Now I’m always fucking scared



This poem is about: 


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