I hold on to this barbed wire,
Blood runs down my hands,
But I don't let go, because of it, I'll never get tired,
The barbed wire and it's deadly smile,
I hold on with an enchanted grin spread across my face,
Ignoring everyone screaming at me to let go,
To just let go,
All I do is squeeze tighter,
Until my fingers are barely attached to my knuckles.
Even though deep gashes litter my hands,
I still cannot see what it does to me,
Because every time I look at it my heart flutters in my chest,
Euphoric day dreams dissociate me from reality,
From the wet, sticky blood sliding down my arms,
It's just the barbed wire and I, and it would never do me harm.
YOU ARE READING
bad poetry
Poetryhi, my name is anneliese and I write to deal with some of my life issues such as trauma from abuse, depression, anxiety, etcetera. writing has helped me heal and I'm not very good at it but it's a valuable coping skill for me. if you like this pleas...
