Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2014
My knife is my comfort.
My blood is my tears.
My shield is concealing the greatest of fears.

My cuts are my refuge, my way to escape.
Watch as the problems pour out of each scrape.

"I'm fine" is my cover, it is such a lie.
Because no one's there to answer my cry.
LovelyBones
Written by
LovelyBones  17
(17)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems