Box of Sharp Objects

All my secrets hidden
In the color of red
Filled with my sharp objects
That I keep under my bed

No one would ever know
I look happy don't I
But I'm not because I have a secret
So I look alive

Full of life they said
But I'm not
I'm dead
But I fought

Fought against myself
But how could you ever win 
That's the problem you don't
You die with every sin

No one knows why or how
And for a second they care
But they never really did
All they did was stare

So I grab my box
Soon see blood running down my skin
That's when I feel alive
But I still could never win

Win my own battle against myself
So I just listen to the rattle
Of my sharp objects
Copyright © | Year Posted 2014

Poem

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Kelley Avatar
January 10, 2014 at 11:53 PM
very strong emotion in this.. I've been there. Great poem my friend.
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