.Poems.

the scars that make me

I draw with silver and out comes red.,
I realized the real monsters weren't under my bed .,
they were in my head.
For that the darkness tears me apart on the inside.
No one will understand cause I'm safe from the outside.
If I don't smile soon.
I will carve out a grin.
For my body is dust.
And my soul is rust.
The silver makes a smile.
I don't think death will take a while.
For he is not coming he is already here.
Sparks of red and black shoot out of me.
It pours out like the rain that washed away the pain.