A work of art both intricate and simplistic,
a minimalist masterpiece of personality and emotion,
screaming teen heart breaks and whispered memories,
sweeping curves and harsh thick lines crossing and dodging each other to create a piece filled with empty hollow beauty,
embodied as the ****** scabs and old stitched scars painted on her wrists.

I need a poem
Writer's block is killing me
Woah I found a grape

When you realized it's too late
She'll be by the gate
That she used to wait
But this time
It's not you, saying I do
With her groom
Happily married
There's nothing you could do.