TWLOHA

To write long on your arms, is like trying to write on you heart. The knife is the pen, and the veins are your paper.

You write on them to get out your life so you can really write.

You let it flow and hope they'll read.

The ink will dry and turn dull.
It'll wash away.

So you hope they read and feel while the ink is still wet.

You hope they see the pretty red of the ink.
You want them to see the only beauty in your life

Poem by bitchin25

Comments