Pain.
You ask me to pray for you,
to forgive you for every tear
you made me shed.
You tell me these wounds
would one day turn to scars
and they would become pretty marks
carved on every canvas where I have once hurt.
But tell me,
what can I do with the scars within?
With the beauty I cannot see?
YOU ARE READING
Anxiety and Things that Shatter
Poetry"Anxiety, you are lightening and a thunder only I can hear. In my despair, you wear an intimidating smile like a glittering stretch mark on the skin of the horizon." Cover by @DeathsDarkSoul
