I make designs on my arms
They reflect how I feel in the moment
I’m not proud of it
But I need to do it
Because I cause pain to everyone I love
And at that moment I can’t even think straight
All I know is the person standing in the mirror Is my number one enemy
I might be too honest using these words
In fact, I might even be a concern
I know this is a bad habit
But I’m addicted to being in control of my own pain
a.poems
About the Creator
Arthy
Hi, Thanks for reading my writing! ig: axrthy
Wild Waves of Gold
Trembling wheat in the sun-baked winds look like wild waves of gold, skillfully swaying in the glittering day—the fields are an endless and open invitation that calls the free wanderers, the dreamers, and anyone needing a change of pace into its splendor, into its sense of comfortability, into a world separate from the concrete and gray—we may tremble with it—with the wheat spun from the blazing sun, with the carefree visions that may be out of reach for many, including ourselves. The rat race dies here and the unwavering winds bury it in soil while we dance as free as the wheat does.
By Andi Leighabout 3 hours ago in Poets
The Voyeur's Incandescent Reasoning
The woman sat nonplussed, in the Waiting Room. In a sort of daze, looking straight ahead patiently. She had already had three small breakfast's that morning and a nip of sherry, this was not unusual she would typically wait until an hour after she took her anti-depressant and was her morning routine. She was merely following instructions she assured herself, shifted slightly in her seat and feeling a little heart burn thought, maybe she should skip lunch. Dom had said to have the task done this week. She was well used to his methods and desired to get this over and done with soon. She glanced at her watch, smiled weakly at the Receptionist who was there for a moment and then gone.
By Canuck Scriber L.Lachapelle Author6 days ago in Fiction
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