i am a pleaser
ripping my skin from my flesh
just to cover up your pain
cutting off my fingers
to lend you a handi was born a pleaser
made to fix and console
never to be loved.i am a pleaser let me help
i could kill myself trying to help
i will kill myself trying to help.
YOU ARE READING
not so bad poetry
PoetryPart 2 of bad poetry, a new book to fill pages and pages of emptiness with ink ready to spill