PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

You hate how I try to speak of the past

As if knowing that I grew up too fast

Realizing the things I saw were true

Knowing everything but what to do.



I'm falling like a teardrop to the floor

I don't know who I am anymore

Land on a bed of roses, yet only feel the thorns

It's ripping through me, Body battered and torn.



I seek comfort in such little things,

Knowing what my sadness brings

thoughts of death and a blade

The scars have yet to fade.



No- I cannot fall- I've risen too much

Though all I was is his delicate touch

To the razorblade I cannot bend

Please lend me strength, my sister, my friend.