This site will self destruct in 2 months, March 17. It will come back, and be familiar and at the same time completely different. All content will be deleted. Backup anything important. --- Staff
|
|
I walk these streets Forgetting or maybe just not caring that the blood on these hands is my own. I inflict the wounds I find upon myself then question why the world hates me. How can it not? I can't even stop hating myself. |
This is really good. Its simplistic and clear, yet it open the reader to such a bigger realm of personally relevant thoughts. thank you. but, though the title is great on its own, the poem lacks the confidence in perseverance that the title holds at first glance. maybe you could work either's meaning into one or the other to give the whole read a better general meaning... just an idea. still liked the poem! | Posted on 2013-04-30 00:00:00 | by Cure | [ Reply to This ] | |