Scars
Raised lines--
Uncensored reminders of some not-so-nice memories.
Life didn't play fair that day...
Or that day.
Pink markings--
Haunting and cruel to the eyes.
Everything was against me...
I couldn't take it.
This obsession--
It can't be stopped.
I want to,
I really do,
But I just can't...
I really can't.
My forearms are covered with these symbols
Depicting everlasting sadness.
Torn flesh, cut cleanly...
A fresh blade
Each and every time.
These scars will remain forever,
Writing the unwritten feelings of raging sadness
I keep bottled within.
Uncensored reminders of some not-so-nice memories.
Life didn't play fair that day...
Or that day.
Pink markings--
Haunting and cruel to the eyes.
Everything was against me...
I couldn't take it.
This obsession--
It can't be stopped.
I want to,
I really do,
But I just can't...
I really can't.
My forearms are covered with these symbols
Depicting everlasting sadness.
Torn flesh, cut cleanly...
A fresh blade
Each and every time.
These scars will remain forever,
Writing the unwritten feelings of raging sadness
I keep bottled within.
♠ ♠ ♠
Okay, so I'm really not sure how good/bad this is at all. I'm slightly (overly) out of writing poetry since I took a break from this site. :/ I don't know why, but every time that I write poetry, it nearly always comes out like this--freakishly depressing.I don't understand how these words come from my mind and flow to my fingertips. I'm not emo, I've never cut myself, or even caused myself any intentional bodily harm. It really doesn't make sense, but hey--what can you do?