slamforSuicideAwarnessAndPreventintion
Learn more about other poetry terms
i crave for blood to fill my arms,
my thighs.
like red ink on a peice of paper.
i enjoy it, though, it's a problem
i can never shake.
And there were days where I was jealous of the moon,
For she heard the cries and the secrets that spilled from your bloodstained lips,
