Writing is the slitting of wrists with words
The bleeding onto paper
Of your truth

People turn their heads away
Overwhelmed at the sight of purity
Art that reflects human form in its entirety
Its the ****** of oneself
For all to see
Come see my body
Bled dry
Caught trapped in a sheet of paper
Come see "i dont know how to explain it"
Disproved
Come see the darkest places i have ever traveled alone
Maybe then you'd understand

Its not just a poem
Its my blood
Poured out for the world to see