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16 Bullets
March 9, 2014
Invisible scars on my wrists
Images of me rocking back and forth in a corner
My eyes backed up with dried out tears
Fake smiles that take all 17 bones to appear
I may not look sick but the illness is killing me
How is it possible to feel so alone with everyone constantly standing around
Asking “Are you ok?”
Every time I answer yes it's like getting shot with a bullet.
Today I got shot 16 times.
16 bullets.
It hurts not being able to scream
I'll fix the wounds myself.
Pity is no friend of mine.
© Anonymous
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