13-year-old level angst
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I see all the scars you try to hide.
I see the cracks and gorges in your skin.
So I try to make you feel better because the only way I can feel good is to make other people feel good.
Hey, is this okay?
Can I sleep here for the night?
Do you mind at all?
Am I bothering you?
I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.
I wrote a poem to choke my sorrow.
Like a blot of gauze to staunch the blood flow.
Drops of blood drop and drip between my toes,
from wound that punctured lung like jagged bone,
This is a sad poem,
but it's a beutiful day.
with the blue sky and a breeze
to cast the sad away.
ok.
But I am far to lazy to do anything about it.
I could be working,
I could be strong.
She moves like a butterfly bounding from flower to flower. Her features are fine-tuned like the keys on a piano. When the sun shines down on her head it reveals a golden halo of hair. Flowers blossom in her presence.
I would like to give you my whole heart, but I can't.
He has some of it, you see.
He cut off a sliver with a paring knife
Oh so long ago.
He doesn't even know it's there,
