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Rated: E · Poetry · Dark · #1618066
Just a poem I am like writing off the top of my head.
Sinking sorrow,
deep within.
Wounds are made,
never to end.

Been there,
done that.
Now you ask,
what's going on?

How could you ask,
when you did see.
The wounds,
the sorrow.

Sinking deeper now,
the cause the hurt.
The abuse that,
had brought it up.

So now you see,
as do I.
That sorrow sinks,
to the pit inside.

All shall see,
what's become of me.
And those who know,
cast a sorrows gaze.
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