My heart pounds against my chest,
as if scremaing at me.
I'm still beating,
I'm still beating!
Look, you're still alive!
But with every beat
my heart aches.
With every beat
the stitches start to tear out
and my heart starts bleeding.
The patches fall out
and invisible hands
carve words and names
into my very heart.
Gruesome, I know,
but it's my heart.
And thinking about i,
it's really beautiful.
Barbwire and stitches,
words and names,
akk oatched out,
sharpie marks and x's and o's,
thorns and holes,
red, black, blue, and neon green
shredded arrows, broken rainbows.
Blood and teeth marks...
A bumper sticker that says:
I'm bawlsy, not suicidal.
I thought it was a pretty picture.
Nov.-6-09
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Title says it all--