I told her.
I did it.
I'm finally free.
But she doesn't know
that you actually are
my girlfriend.
That I am probably cyclothymic.
That I cut,
and was hiding a bleeding wrist at that very moment.
That I actually do think about killing myself
too many times each day.
But I'm proud of what I did tell,
what I did give up.
She's proud of me,
but I probably should see a therapist,
honey.
YOU ARE READING
Stormy Shoals: A Poetry Collection
PoetryAnother poetry collection from my heart, just letting the words bleed onto the page. I mask the hurt with pain, because pain demands to be felt. But hurt just demands to ruin your life.... 🖤🖤Trigger warning: everything🖤🖤 "Criminally underrated...
