Downing poison wouldn't equivalent to the amount of negative emotions I have running through my veins.
Memories build from shards of glass cut me internally.
The mental illness that I possess warped my bones into something disgusting.
Skin boils red from the burns of others harshly spoken words.
What am I?
Answer:
A creature from my own making or a monster forged though others decisions?
Answer:
YOU ARE READING
Poems and Rants Of A Killjoy
PoetryAll of my thoughts written down in here... This is a place for those who need a safe haven of sorts. Made by one of your own. I hope you can learn from my mistakes. "Come one, come all to this tragic affair..." -Dead! By My Chemical Romance [ON-GOIN...
