Her eyes are pouring
And the tears are mixing
With the blood flowing
From her too-pale wrists.
It all ends up
As a beautiful disaster
On the lined pages
Of her notebook.
The paper
is tainted with
So much history
And the lines she
Had scribbled furiously
Cutting through the paper
Instead of her skin.
When I picked up the book
And mixed my life with hers
I still could not understand
How someone so beautiful
Could be hurt so badly
And see no point in living.
And I love her
I love her every day
In ways stronger
Then Any other boy can.
~ from: the artist
to: the musician
YOU ARE READING
Meaningless:: a collection
PoetryI've made this for you for when you're lost and alone when you're sinking like a stone use these words, these pieces of broken soul, to heal your own. - this is strictly for awareness, I do not encourage anyone to do the following and if you stru...
