Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2019
I feel dead inside
but that’s what this illness does
-it tears and it rips,
it convinces you that there is no hope left,
it leaves scars running up your wrists and thoughts,
it eats your heart alive
and spits out the chewed up pieces.
Composed 9.1.19
Jean
Written by
Jean  18/F
(18/F)   
98
   Audra
Please log in to view and add comments on poems