More poems by Deceased Innocence

Flawed

She glides over once-flawless skin, though now, it is marred with pale, white lines, lines she caused

The silver finish glints in a soft light, showing beauty, danger

It is impossible to tell how many days and nights have been spent doing this awful deed of pain and suffering

There are layers of scars, crisscrossing, making intricate patterns that only she can tell apart

She feels numb, there is nothing left in the world