I love my scars
To me they're art
They're painting drawn in the dark
The blood flows in an angry color
Drips and drips
Slowly down my thighs or my wrists
It's hoodie season,so I can embrace
Make art in many different ways
I love the blood
To me it's art
It's paint spilled in the dark
YOU ARE READING
Youthful Wreck
PoetryA collection of poems I wrote in highschool struggling through the pain of life. Trigger warnings about SH,SA and suicidal thoughts and eating disorders.
