12:20 AM (Wednesday)

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Red stains my hands,
Thoughts swim in my head,
White almost pale skin scared,
Chapped lips mumbles incoherent words,
And all I can say is: "Weak, that's what I am",
Because it's what I've learned to believe,
Wanna know something?
It's a lie.

Poems and Rants Of A KilljoyWhere stories live. Discover now