Words spill like ink from a ***
or blood from a wrist.
And let's be honest...
There isn't a difference anymore.
They scratch their suffering on skin
and scream their love like diagnoses.
Diagnosis, a death sentence,
bated breath because "I've fallen in love."
May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 2:00 PM UTC
Words spill like ink from a ***
or blood from a wrist.
And let's be honest...
There isn't a difference anymore.
They scratch their suffering on skin
and scream their love like diagnoses.
Diagnosis, a death sentence,
bated breath because "I've fallen in love."
Mental illness makes "love" a heady thing.
