Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2018
Trauma isn’t pretty.

She wakes up at three am with short breaths and panic in her chest.
my skin is covered with the marks of my own creation,
and I am afraid of them.
She is too.
Cause those marks show what I am actually, truly, capable of.
I am a creature of mass destruction,
made of fire
and iron and
sharp knives.
Grey
Written by
Grey  Gender Fluid
(Gender Fluid)   
96
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems