To write a poem on my wrist
Would tell you of the many things I miss...
What immortal hand or eye
Could create such an image as I...
I am afraid.
Afraid ofâ?¦...
I'm a *itch, a s*ank, and a w*ore
I'm the one that you don't adore...
People all around you
Have to stop and stare...
Voices whisper
Deep in my ears...
As I stalked the night,
And kissed the sun goodbye...
Why am I so empty,
Why is my heart so torn...