It’s things like long sleeves
In one hundred degrees
You’d think they’d notice
But all they see is the outside
they look at their downside
I’m not there to clean,
but they don’t ask why I’m so lean
I don’t eat,
I can’t sleep
All day I lay in bed
I wish I were dead
Then out comes the blade
the price is paid
for their neglect
I pour out red
I cry, they burn
I toss and turn
Never sleeping
But somehow dreaming
of my escape
is it them or me that I hate?
This is my nightmare
Welcome to my daily scare
Will i do it today?
Can I finally escape?
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About the Creator
Hannah Rose
All of the photography on my posts is my own. I am a different kind of artist, I cant draw, but I see the world through a camera lens, and write from that perspective.
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