battles unspoken
Many scars litter my wrist some healed some bled some drip down my wrist. Scars are battles but is it when you want to lose? Cries for help on deaths ears the signs misused some cry while the other others argue no one looks the only thing we get is and tainted glare and believe me and you both know that's not fair, (still working on it)
Ad
Poetry Books 50% Off
Bestselling collections from top poets
Shop Now →
