Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2017
Every morning I wake to bleeding fingers.
I sleep on a bed made from loose grenade pins.
Just reminders of a past life.
A former self.
Traits and abilities I haven't unlocked yet.

I will never be enough.

Even a glass full of water
Looks empty
From far enough away.
Written by
b  20/M/canada
(20/M/canada)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems