I write poems about the thoughts and I draw flowers from the scars I turn bottles into vases I call this damage art
I send the feelings to the hole where used to lay myΒ Β heart so I can pretend me and my "problems" are a world apart
I know these thoughts do not rhyme and on my skin, the scars will lie i know to hold all these bottles is not wanting to say goodbye i know this damage is real but then so is this art so I will continue to write as it tears me apart