Grave Scars
The needles in my arm, if they could talk, i would help them along to walk - My misery, contemplentary to forgery, it will still explain my fake - I never take, i never asked, are you a thief for grief - When i cry, my angels weap, i never tear goodbye - I will burn, so you do not have to flame - I will burrow, all your sorrows - And if i was permitted, i will grave your scars - I will suffer, so you do not have too - Even if that means, i will enter hell, by far - Alone i am with my demons, matter not to add a legi6n
24 M
poem by Unic Cjonr
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