Three marks down, five left to go
the skin opens so easily
eight scars left now, five will show
the last one makes her queasy
One more drop now, pictures fade
what a pretty mess was made
just like the marks across her face
that match your knuckles perfectly
The puddle gets thicker every time
you form new pictures in her mind
they're gonna know the truth someday
her arm will tell your story
She keeps breathing to stay alive
to prove you wrong, to prove her right
to hold his hand, to win this fight
to change these pictures, change her sight
And all the stitches were evenly placed,
too bad they'll never get to stay.
Author notes
Dreaming [nightmaring] about Bio-Dad again, just writing out old memories.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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nice job on this it gives the reader alot of insight and alot of imagery. i loved the whole poem and i thought you did a great job. buena trabajo, write more
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wow ...im speechless, this was amazing
I'm seriously like beyond words
its an amazing write
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