BleedingDarkness Little red marks across your wrist, memories that come with a searing twist, Patterns of crisscrossed badges of glory, each tell their own special story. Scars reopen with each emotional wound like rings on a tree, deep in bloom. Dead people don’t bleed, its proof you’re alive. Sometimes you need a reminder in order to survive. It’s hard to keep a secret, nothing you can do. Especially when everything is written all over you. After you’ve been hurt, everything shifts. The view is foggy, you just sort of drift. Look in their eyes, something changes; pain becomes the center, no matter how you try to hide it.
Posted on: Sat, 10 Aug 2013 17:49:52 +0000
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