The blood, it pools,
Just under the surface.
Broken, battered, and bruised
Safely hidden out of sight.
Would you take the time to look?
Can you see?
The broken pieces,
Inside of me.
The scars, they live,
Just under the surface.
Bleeding, blistering, and boiling
Carefully hidden out of sight
Would you take the time to look?
Can you see?
The jagged pieces,
Within me.
* Not my best, sorry. *shrugs*
YOU ARE READING
Speaking to Lost Souls
PoetryA collection of thoughts and emotion. Forgive me. I have a poet's soul, but not a poet's pen.
