Wounded Poem by Jeremey Str.

Wounded, painfully damaged, sitting courageously in the harmful hands of the rose pedals slashing my face as the thorns from the stem tear the flesh off my bones. Dastardly evil the sun beats its savage rays, making me tremble from the dehydration. Trying to endure my life, I get crushed, crushed by the heaviest mass. The individual who I told to leave me alone, just never stopped. The help that I need can only be concurred by me dealing with my problems.