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Bruises and Bullet Shells
I’m sitting on my bed, across from somebody
Their face is covered by tears,
The only light, the streetlights outside
All I hear is music,
The person cannot hear me
I look around me, the only thing there
Are holes in the walls
And suddenly, things start to make sense,
The room is coming alive, as is the person
They stare at me blankly, I am clearly not there
Their face is stained with tears, their eyes are bloodshot
Can they feel anything?
I see the bruises on their forehead, they cannot feel
I look on their face for any emotion, but none is given
I look down at their pale, skinny arms
And I see their pain, the reason they cannot feel
As the bed gets warmer, the person gets colder
Their blood, pooling onto my legs,
And I then understand their pain, why they cannot feel,
And this person’s face becomes clearer as they fall into my lap.
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This is the one piece my teacher had a comment on, this one has suicidal ideolgies and imagery, so trigger warning on that part. This isn't one of my darker pieces, but this is one I rarely go back to.