These hands
Holds chaos
This body
Is surrounded by thick walls
These eyes
Filled to the brim
With pain
This smile
Plastic as a doll I once
Wished to be
Because I believed they were
Perfect.
Because they
Don't have thick layers of walls
To hide behind.
They don't have to fake a smile
They don't have to sit up
At 2am covering there mouth
And hold back the tears
That threaten to reveal themselves.
They don't hold themselves
So tightly that bruises cover them
They don't have to starve
Or cut themselves
They
Don't get to feel...
ВИ ЧИТАЄТЕ
Loud Pøetry Spilled From The Quiet Soul
ПоезіяAll of these are mine. Not the Internet. Trigger warning. (Self mutilation, depression, anorexia, etc....) And my apologies if they aren't even slow to Bukowski or Anything....I just wanted to try
