TRIGGER WARNING, THIS CHAPTER MENTIONS CUTTING.
Paint with red
If I could paint with red, would anyone see?
See the hidden pain that's inside of me?
I look at my scars and what I say
is "That is why I hurt today"
The silver brush is quick with strokes
The red pours out without a coax
I let myself sigh in relief,
I can finally deal with the grief
But if I stopped my painting, it would come again
And what would happen then?
I cast the thought aside,
I have to paint, for the pain I hide
Mother saw my painting, her eyes welled with tears
She asked "why?", I told her of my fears
She had me see a man, who helped me stop the paint
I no longer hear the voices, no longer feel the pain
And all I know is, I ever want to paint again
YOU ARE READING
Poems
PoetryJust some poems, some by me, from from other people. I have no idea how long this'll be, enjoy!
