Untitled~

Oh, we could blame it on our hands
They lifted the drink to our mouths so we drank it
Or we could blame it on our bodies
They say, we like the way we feel when we get touched
You've got your fingers snared in my veins
I think it's time you pulled them out
And I don't care about the flesh it'll tear
It isn't flesh that I'm worried about

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741