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TinaRSHPoems
They spot an armful of red dots run along the thick skin. Of forelorn hands, heavy smiles, of a body not so thin. They say it's the rash of youth, healed over time. A layer of mind, peeled and wrapped around a repressed crime. Perhaps they live a saint's life and all die as Gods. And we go to hell as jokers. what are the odds? I cannot unveil the piercing daggers, what they see is only tips. I am to plant a kiss of life on my own lips. Since drought has empraced my aching heart, I ***** blood each second, live, but fall apart.
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Feb 14, 2018
Feb 14, 2018 at 5:52 PM UTC
Rise of the Shadow
They spot an armful of red dots run along the thick skin. Of forelorn hands, heavy smiles, of a body not so thin. They say it's the rash of youth, healed over time. A layer of mind, peeled and wrapped around a repressed crime. Perhaps they live a saint's life and all die as Gods. And we go to hell as jokers. what are the odds? I cannot unveil the piercing daggers, what they see is only tips. I am to plant a kiss of life on my own lips. Since drought has empraced my aching heart, I ***** blood each second, live, but fall apart.
This may be a little triggering. please take it into account before reading. Down, but this is not the end. Stigmatised but not broken. here is a poem from the depth of my soul :)
#sad#depression#suicide#selfharm#hopeless#death#woman#girl#crying#dark
TinaRSH
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TinaRSH
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Feb 14, 2018
Feb 14, 2018 at 5:52 PM UTC
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