Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
cold tiles press against her cheek ***** on her fingers, in the toilet bowl, in her mouth a broken promise on her lips. shush, don't wake them up. how could she find the words to say it? say what? "i need help." only people with real problems need help. being unkind to yourself is second nature wrap it up, in gauze and bandaids and little lies you tell yourself, because you can't admit you're not doing better. admit to who? yourself? she knows it's ****** up the way she lives with her screwdriver-sharpener craft and her fingers down her throat like a curse the sour taste that never quite leaves her mouth. but maybe ****** up is what she deserves?
0
Feb 7, 2021
Feb 7, 2021 at 7:20 AM UTC
tw
cold tiles press against her cheek ***** on her fingers, in the toilet bowl, in her mouth a broken promise on her lips. shush, don't wake them up. how could she find the words to say it? say what? "i need help." only people with real problems need help. being unkind to yourself is second nature wrap it up, in gauze and bandaids and little lies you tell yourself, because you can't admit you're not doing better. admit to who? yourself? she knows it's ****** up the way she lives with her screwdriver-sharpener craft and her fingers down her throat like a curse the sour taste that never quite leaves her mouth. but maybe ****** up is what she deserves?
the_fresh_b-tch_of_belair
Written by
Feb 7, 2021
Feb 7, 2021 at 7:20 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem