You make me want to write poetry
Bad poetry
The kind that rips out your spine and makes you weak
The kind that breaks your heart and stabs you in the back with the pieces
The kind that completely tears you apart
As my ribs drag on the ground and my knuckles are bone
I'll bring you the needle to sew me back together
Then shred me part all over again
You know I've always been addicted to the pain
And nobody can hurt me the way you do
YOU ARE READING
Before I Blackout
PoetryMy best work is done when I'm on the edge of blacking out, when you finally stop trying to pretend you have a grip on what runs though your mind, you should try writing with your eyes half closed and your mind wide open. This may be an on going pro...
