Battered
I can hear you calling me.
I wish I knew how this story would end.
My body is naked and cool in the air.
Everyone's eyes can see the marks on my skin.
The deep purple fingertips and the scars eating my face away.
I don't know how it got there.
I can see your curved lips that kissed me so lovingly.
I can imagine those hands on me again.
How can you still say you love me?
I can feel the warmth of your blood on my hands.
Your body crumples and I can't stop.
The knife goes in again and again.
Hurt, the way I hurt.
My tears run down to exhaust my body.
I can still hear you calling.
Everyone knows it was me.
They still see my battered soul I wear.
The hand marks you forever left.
The blood I took from you.
Those were my last words.
The stabbing of that knife.
I love you, too.
By: Ausha
This is pretty old and I found it in an "old memories" box. It has a pretty good picture to go with it also, but-
I think it is pretty self explanitory what with the literal writing.
It also helps to explain at the bottom here because apparently it is not two hundred words.
Sorry I cannot be so filling.
I was around fourteen when I wrote this.
Long time.
