Glass falls upon me,
As I stare before my reflection.
I begin to clearly see,
The blood puddles are perfection.
My movement becomes stim,
The scars so deep and bare.
As water dries from my stem,
I see the clouds don't care.
Plains of glass pierce my back,
But pushing forward is a must.
Though this pain I shall attack,
Until my bones are burnt to dust.
YOU ARE READING
Broken Souls
PoetryA collection of dark poems I have wrote in regards to various mental disorders, as well as heavy life problems including substance abuse, violence and poverty.
