Oliver

Mangled Hands

Copyright Oliver

Tonight I’ll draw a bleeding heart
I’ll draw it on my wrist
I’ll draw it with a razor blade
I’ll seal it with a kiss
My bloodied lips are caked with
Little secrets I cant tell
But surely there’s no
Turning back
When cuts begin to swell
How could I let them know
What I’ve been doing with my time
They used to be so proud of me
But I just want to die
And when the wounds heal that I made
Upon my milk white skin
I’ll think of all the secrets that pollute me deep within
And tell tale scars that raise above my bones won’t tell us lies
A tear is rolling down my cheek, but still I cannot cry.
My closets filled with long sleeved shirts
My drawers with rubber bands
Next time,
I’ll tell the messed up truth
About my mangled hands

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