• raniaamtur 46w

    Tracing fingers
    Upon my skin
    All chapped and slitted
    How isolated ive been
    With no one around
    And no one to hold
    Trapped in my skin
    Out of their cold
    I stride to my garden
    But oh those flowers
    For they have wilted
    Hating my appearance
    I look in the mirror
    And heres to what i see
    All of my ugliness
    Staring back at me
    And so i tore my skin
    But its freezed to stone
    The ugly never comes out
    Perhaps its confined to my bone.
    And if i sum up my life
    In mere words today
    There'd be only hate
    My lips would ever say. ~R