Feb 2018
My wrist was red
And my neck was blue
You were my favorite killer
And i would die for you
Now the wrists have healed
As new scars grew
And the time never heals
What i've been through.
And my neck was blue
You were my favorite killer
And i would die for you
Now the wrists have healed
As new scars grew
And the time never heals
What i've been through.
This poem is dead.
