Scorched flesh,
So inflamed and infected,
Fresh damage to self.
Flames dance after thee,
As you break away.
Your in dire need for a rescue,
But hate to complain.
Burns meet silence,
As cream heals all but the screams.
They set your insides aflame,
Everything physically a crisp,
As you mentally try to breath.
Oct 22, 2017
Oct 22, 2017 at 9:55 PM UTC
Scorched flesh,
So inflamed and infected,
Fresh damage to self.
Flames dance after thee,
As you break away.
Your in dire need for a rescue,
But hate to complain.
Burns meet silence,
As cream heals all but the screams.
They set your insides aflame,
Everything physically a crisp,
As you mentally try to breath.
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