Always seen but never realy herd

by vodka crimson and mascra   Apr 5, 2006


My voice goes unheard my cuts are hidden forbidden to be seen
my tears poor down my face as dose the crimson from my wrists

I'm such a dicrase i cant stand this place I'm at in my head insanity reality its killing me

worse than any or OD on sleeping pills or a hiding from my father id rather go i hate this dyeing slow F**k it i have to go

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  • 18 years ago

    by LostForever

    Hiya,
    good poem. i can relate to that poem so much its untrue.
    keep writing
    love ya alexe
    xxx