Flushed face,
gazed eyes,
when she smiles
It's all lies.
Scarred wrist,
dyed hair,
dark makeup,
It's all there.
She may be different,
but why care?
Why judge,
why threat?
Your not helping her thoughts
on being dead.
YOU ARE READING
Poems
PoetryJust a bunch of shitty poems I write when I'm bored. ALL ARE WRITTEN BY JAE RAYNE. (that's me)
