Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
it makes me wonder when will you see me sitting here blood on my hands
scars on my legs  
tears running down my face
food I have not eaten in days stacked in the corner
my phone is dead oh how I envy it
my under eyes are dark from sleepless nights
my hands tremble
my eyes stare blankly
my very being is a black box
so many secrets hidden inside but no way to get in
I guess if I tell you I’m ok and wash dishes
you will never see the broken pens and pencils that write letters of goodbye in the evening
then poems of struggle at dusk
then notes of petty inspiration when the next day begins
you just see the pens that write average homework assessments
and the mouth that comes up with excuses rather than the silent screams
you see the girl who goes to school and lays around
if only you could see every thought in my head they never stop running around

— The End —