This is one of my poems that is actually personal and relevant to me, it's
not much but it's pretty fucking true. Never again should I become
personal, people still ridicule what you say, baring your soul only leaves
you vulnerable. I can't help how I feel; my emotions are going to be my
downfall because I care too much, despite how indifferent I act.
·÷±=± Demon Rising ±=±÷
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·!¦[· Hurt ·]¦!·
Lost and alone in a world of hate
No tolerance is left to spare
Hating herself as she looks in the mirror
Everyday she wishes she could just disappear
Layers of black and make-up her only protection
It doesn't stop the whispers and stares
Cruel words don't seem to faze her
Deep down her heart bleeds
You don't see.
Scars on her wrists
As she cries herself to sleep
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I don't cry myself to sleep.I have a few times, but not every night. And
the scars aren't from attempted suicide; I inflict cuts and scratches when
I'm angry or depressed, the scars are fading.